All Roads Lead Me Back To You
by morelikeaghost
Summary: Emma and Killian find themselves trapped in the Enchanted Forest of the future where they are greeted by their own 20-year-old daughter. Together they must fight to defeat the powerful Dark Sorceress Morgana, who threatens not only their happy ending but the future of all the realms. Follows canon through 3x22, AU from that point.
1. The Portal

CHAPTER ONE: The Portal (_Emma's POV_)

Before she even opened her eyes, Emma knew something had gone wrong. The air felt much too heavy and warm, far too alive with vibrant birdsong, and her landing upon expulsion from the portal had been overly soft. Tentatively, she flattened her palm against the ground …was that _moss_ she felt beneath her fingertips? She rolled over onto her back and drew in a deep, shuddering breath, willing the anxious churning in the pit of her stomach to cease. Beside her, she heard Killian's low groan, followed by a rustle of fabric as he struggled to stand. With an increasing feeling of dread, Emma finally opened her eyes and was greeted by the unwelcome sight of an old growth forest canopy swaying gently in the slight breeze. Echoing Killian's groan, Emma sat up. The woman she'd rescued from Regina's dungeon was still unconscious, sprawled out on the ground a few feet away.

Killian offered Emma his hand and pulled her to her feet. "It appears we're still in the Enchanted Forest," he said, unnecessarily. "Look behind you."

Still holding Killian's hand, Emma slowly turned around. Her heart sank. There in the not-so-far-off distance, rising majestically out of a shroud of mist, was her mother's castle. _Or was it Regina's castle?_ she wondered silently. She turned to face Killian, fighting back tears for what felt like the one hundredth time that day.

"I guess my magic failed," she whispered dejectedly. "I didn't reopen the time portal after all." She averted her eyes and tried to pull away, but he refused to let go of her hand.

"Your magic _didn't_ fail," Killian insisted gently. "We're still in the Enchanted Forest, yes, but I'm willing to wager that we're in another time. The forest feels…different…to me somehow. Lighter." He lifted her chin with his hook, forcing her to look at him. His implicit trust and steadfast belief in her abilities shone brightly in the glacier blue depths of his eyes.

Usually Killian's unwavering faith in her gave Emma strength, especially when she doubted herself, but right now she felt only irritation. Angrily, she snatched her hand out of his grasp and took a step back. "You don't know that," she snapped.

"You forget how much time I've spent in dark places," he replied evenly, undeterred by her outburst. "This is definitely a place ruled by the light. Regardless, wherever – or _whenever_ – we are, we're better off than we were in the Dark One's prison."

Emma couldn't deny that he was right about the last part, but it didn't change the fact that she'd obviously made a grievous error when she cast the spell. "Just stop, Hook," she growled. "Just accept the fact that I messed up and stop trying to defend me. I don't need a cheerleader." He frowned, and Emma realized that, not only was she being unfair, but her insult had probably also gone right over his head. Just like that, her anger evaporated and was immediately replaced by a deep feeling of despair. _Henry_, she thought. _Mom…Dad…will I ever see you again?_

"I'm sorry," she apologized, taking Killian's hand again and giving it a squeeze. "You don't deserve that. I'm just upset. I thought we were going home."

"I know, love," Killian said. "And we will. Just not as soon as we hoped." He drew her hand up to his chest, pressing it firmly against his heart, and smiled at her sadly. Their gazes locked and Emma felt her own heart flutter. It appeared that nothing – not imminent danger, threat of death, or even the prospect of being forever stuck in the wrong time – could stifle her wildfire attraction to and growing affection for this man. She'd been grateful for his presence during their trip to the past, and she was grateful for it now.

"Killian…I'm glad you're here with me," Emma admittedly shyly, watching his features soften when she called him by his given name. They were already standing close together, but Killian took a step forward, closing the last bit of distance and trapping their joined hands between them. Emma wasn't sure if the rapid heartbeat thudding against her hand was his or hers – maybe it was both.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he said, his low tone sending a jolt right through her. Killian's gaze darted back and forth between her eyes, and Emma knew if she didn't look away soon she was going to kiss him.

"Hold it right there!" The loud female voice startled Emma and Killian, breaking the spell that had befallen them. They sprang apart, both spinning in the direction of the voice. Killian immediately shoved Emma behind him protectively, ignoring her huff of indignation. An arrow whizzed by their heads, frighteningly close.

"If you want to keep your heads, don't move!" the woman called out. Freezing on the spot, Emma and Killian scanned the surrounding forest, trying to discern where their attacker was hiding.

"Hey now!" Killian shouted angrily, raising his hand and hook in submission. Emma mimicked his actions. "We mean you no harm!"

The trees to their left parted as a woman stepped warily into the mossy clearing, her bow drawn. Emma first took in the cleverly camouflaging attire clothing her slender frame – no wonder they hadn't seen her – before her eyes landed on her face. Emma gasped. This woman could be her sister! Her long, wavy tumble of hair was a dark seal brown, but the color of her eyes matched Emma's jade green precisely. She had the same high cheekbones and delicate features, and although the shape of her mouth and chin were different, there was something decidedly familiar about the press of her lips and the determined set of her jaw. Beside Emma, Killian drew in a sharp breath, and she knew that he, too, could see the resemblance.

Apparently so could the woman. She stared at Emma, her rosebud mouth forming a perfect "oh" of surprise. The expression made her look younger, and Emma realized she was hardly more than a girl, probably in her very late teens, twenty at the most. Emma's brow furrowed as she watched the rapid succession of emotions flit across the face that was so much like her own. The young woman's bow arm trembled slightly, and then she seemed to shake herself as she struggled to regain her composure, quickly schooling her features into a neutral expression. Emma had no doubt – this girl had to be a relative of hers, and probably a close one.

Slowly, carefully, her eyes never leaving Emma's, the young woman lowered her weapon. "I saw a column of light in the sky," she said. There was a very slight lilt to her speech. "The kind that usually accompanies a portal." Her gaze shifted to Killian momentarily before she focused on Emma, her next question clearly directed at her. "Who are you and where did you come from? What have you done to this woman?" She gestured towards their unconscious companion with her bow.

Emma felt Killian's eyes on her. She glanced at him and immediately recognized his unspoken concern. This girl was obviously related to her. Depending on where they were in time – past or future - revealing their true identities to a member of Emma's family could have dire consequences.

"We did come through a portal," Emma responded carefully. She pointed to her dungeon companion. "This woman suffered a…a blow to the head. Her life was in danger, so we took her with us. We aren't going to hurt either her or you, I swear. I'll tell you who we are, but first, could you tell us whose kingdom this is?"

The young woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She was silent for so long that Emma was certain she wasn't going to answer, but then she said, "This is Snow White's kingdom."

Emma couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. At least they didn't have to worry about fighting off the Evil Queen, or some other notorious villain. She turned to Killian, expecting to see her relief mirrored on his face, but instead he only looked more concerned. Emma was perplexed, but then it hit her. Her mother had actually ruled the kingdom only briefly – first for a short period before Emma was born and again during the lost year she and Henry had spent in New York.

"Please, this is going to sound really strange...but how _long_ has Snow White been queen?" Emma asked, trying and failing to keep the edge of desperation she was feeling out of her voice.

"How long?" the girl repeated. She fell silent again, studying Emma and Killian intently, cocking her head to one side as she considered her response. "Fifteen years," she said finally. "Since we came here from the Land Without Magic."

"You know about the Land Without Magic?" Emma blurted out, incredulous. She and Killian exchanged a meaningful glance. If the girl knew about the Land Without Magic, it could only mean one thing: they must've travelled to the Enchanted Forest _of the future_. A future in which Mary Margaret and god only knew how many other Storybrooke residents had once again returned to their homeland.

"Of course I do," the girl said. "I was born there." She looked Emma up and down, taking in her red leather jacket, skinny jeans, and boots. "If I had to guess, I'd say you were, too."

Emma could only gape at her speechlessly. A veritable tidal wave of questions surged around in her brain. How and, more importantly, _why_ had her mother returned to the Enchanted Forest? Who else was here? Her father and brother, she assumed. But what about _her_? Was there an older version of _herself_ – of _Killian_ – here somewhere? And what about Henry? Emma focused her attention back on the young woman in front of her. Clearly she'd been shocked by the resemblance between herself and Emma when she'd first seen her, but she'd given no indication that she knew either Emma or Killian.

"You were going to tell me your names," the girl said, raising an eyebrow quizzically. Once again Emma was unnerved not only by her physical appearance but by the familiarity of her mannerisms.

Emma knew that this was the moment of truth. She found herself reaching for Killian, her fingers automatically entwining with his. "I'm Emma Swan," she said. "This is Killian Jones."

If their names meant anything to the girl, she didn't let on. "My name is Jocelyn," she replied automatically, then immediately grimaced as though she regretted having told them her name.

Beside Emma, Killian stiffened, clasping her hand so tightly she couldn't help but let out a little grunt of pain. He loosened his grip at the sound, smiling at her in nervous apology, but it was only too apparent the name struck some kind of chord with him. Emma frowned, but she couldn't very well ask him about it right now.

Unnerved by the sudden tension, Emma blurted out, "The portal that brought us here…we believe it was a time portal."

"I gathered that from your line of questioning," Jocelyn said seriously. With a deep sigh, she lowered her bow and returned her arrow to the quiver strapped to her back. "I can bring you to the castle," she offered hesitantly. "It's only a short walk by way of the Western Road."

"Is Mary – erm – the Queen at the castle?" Emma asked haltingly. She was unsure of the possible repercussions of interacting with her mother's future self, but the fact that Jocelyn didn't seem to know who she was disturbed her. Did that mean at some point her family had returned to the Enchanted Forest without her _again_?

"The King and Queen are away on a diplomatic mission," Jocelyn said. "The Crown Prince rules in their stead. He has studied magic and may be able to help you."

Emma looked at Killian in surprise. _The Crown Prince?_ _My brother?_ she wondered. _He has magic, just like me. _ Her heart swelled momentarily before she remembered they hadn't made it back for her baby brother's naming ceremony. _I don't even know his name,_ she thought sadly.

"Can we have a minute?" Emma asked, gesturing with her free hand between herself and Killian.

"I'll wait for you on the Western Road," Jocelyn said. To Emma's amazement, she hoisted the unconscious woman over her shoulder with a deft strength that belied her small stature. "It's just on the other side of these trees. I left my horse there. Can you follow my trail?"

"Aye," Killian said. Both Emma and Jocelyn jumped at his voice, the latter nearly dropping her burden. Emma realized he hadn't spoken since before Jocelyn first appeared. "We'll be right along, lass."

Jocelyn nodded and quickly turned to go, but not before Emma saw the fleeting look of sadness shadowing her lovely features. Emma found it difficult to get a read on the girl, and she couldn't fathom what might be behind that look. She watched as Jocelyn picked her way slowly through the trees, mindful of the unconscious woman's dangling legs.

Emma waited until she was certain Jocelyn was out of earshot before she spoke. "Whoa," she said, dropping Killian's hand so that she could bring both of hers up to cover her face. "So now we're in the future? How in the _hell_ did we end up here?"

"I don't know, love," Killian said tonelessly, for once seeming to be at a loss for words. Emma narrowed her eyes at him, remembered his strong reaction when Jocelyn had introduced herself.

"Killian – "

"I think we should go to the castle," he said bluntly, interrupting her. "It seems like the most logical place to find some answers."

"You think that's a good idea?" Emma asked, wringing her hands. "What if we run into someone we know? Hell, what if we run into _ourselves_?" Emma's voice rose on a note of panic, and Killian's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, his expression hovering somewhere between amusement and concern. Emma gave him a withering look before continuing, "Do you think we could we mess up the past if we interact with people we know here in the future?"

"My instinct says no," Killian answered. "The past is the past. I don't think anything we do now can change it. However, if someone recognizes us, it could be alarming for them, especially if our older selves are…not present…in this land during this time."

Emma really didn't want to think about what their absence from this time might imply, so she decided to change the subject. "Jocelyn," she said, noting again how Killian winced involuntarily at the name. "Do you trust her?"

He sighed heavily. "I don't think she's telling us everything she knows," he admitted. "But I don't think her intent is malicious. I just think she's being careful." He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "She covered it well, but she was startled by your resemblance to her. I think she's having a hard time figuring it out."

"She's not the only one," Emma muttered. "I'd like to think you're right about Jocelyn, but my super power doesn't seem to work on her. It's never been one hundred percent reliable, but my assessment of strangers is usually spot on. It's people I know well who tend to trip me up." She snorted as something occurred to her. "Funny, the only other person I couldn't read at all when I first met them was you."

"Is that so?" Killian considered this for a moment. "Then why did you tie me to a tree?"

Emma laughed. "I was bluffing! Apparently it did the trick because you sure came clean quickly after that."

"Honestly, Swan, I think you just enjoy tying me up." He eyed her lecherously for a moment, but quickly sobered as his expression became thoughtful. "Is that why you left me behind at the beanstalk?" he asked seriously. "Why you said you couldn't risk being wrong about me?"

Emma was taken aback, surprised he remembered what she'd said that day. It seemed so long ago now, almost like another lifetime after everything that had happened between them. "Yes," she replied softly. "I wanted to trust you, but I was…afraid." Ashamed, Emma stared at her feet. "I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. For what it's worth now, I regretted leaving you right afterwards, and I was sorry. I still am."

"No need to apologize, love," Killian said. "Captain Hook is no stranger to regrets, and I've got a lot more than you to be sorry for." Emma looked up then and was grateful to see only understanding and forgiveness in his eyes. "Perhaps this young lass deserves the benefit of your doubt as well," he said pointedly. His appealing smiled was so beautiful Emma couldn't help but return it.

"All right Captain Softy," she teased. "We'll go to the castle. But if we run into ourselves and the space-time continuum implodes, I'm blaming you."


	2. The Western Road

CHAPTER TWO: The Western Road (_Killian's POV_)

It was all his fault.

Killian trudged silently beside Emma as they made their way along the Western Road. Snow's castle loomed before them, growing ever larger in the fading light as the distance between it and themselves continued to shrink. The girl walked several paces ahead of them, leading her horse, the woman Emma had insisted upon rescuing from Regina's dungeon draped across the animal's broad back. He was beginning to wonder if perhaps they should be concerned about the fact that she was still unconscious. His Swan – _my perfect pirate princess_, he thought, shaking his head – must have dealt her one hell of a blow.

_Swan. _Killian stole a furtive glance at the blonde beauty by his side. Her silence surprised him – he knew she had many questions for the girl – but for the moment she seemed completely lost inside her own head. _Probably still trying to figure out how we ended up in the bloody future_, he lamented silently, his mouth forming a grim line. Unlike Emma, Killian didn't need to spend the entire trek to the castle pondering the reason for their current predicament. As soon as the girl stepped out of the forest and into the little clearing where the portal had dumped them, he knew precisely where – when – they were and how they'd ended up there.

It was _all his fault_.

Killian, his unconscious passenger in tow, had jumped through the time portal first, with Emma following several seconds behind him. He was well acquainted with the basic operating mechanics of magical portals. They took you wherever – and, in the case of time portals, whenever – you happened to be thinking of, although more often than not the finer details got lost in the translation. He'd been thinking of home when he jumped through the time portal, and for him, home was Emma. Something had changed between them over the course of their adventure in the past. She'd been open and comfortable with him in a way she'd never been before, and it had filled his heart nearly to overflowing with hope for the future.

That, he was sure, had been his folly. By thinking of _Emma_ and _home_ and _a future with her_, he had inadvertently transported them to the very place where all three apparently merged neatly into one: His _own_ future. The very existence of the girl walking in front of them was all the proof he needed to know that his theory was correct. His reaction when he'd seen her face for the first time had been almost visceral, and immediately he'd known the truth. Those were Emma's eyes staring back at him, Emma's dainty nose and prominent cheekbones, but that dark hair, the stubborn jaw, the shape of her mouth – those were HIS features, as familiar to him as the reflection he'd seen in the mirror for the past three hundred years. She was his daughter, his and Emma's daughter.

Initially, he'd been struck dumb by the sight of her, so much so that he'd had to let Emma do all the talking. In watching the subtle interplay between the two women, he quickly realized that, although his Swan could see the resemblance between herself and the girl, she was oblivious to the fact that she was looking at her own daughter. He hadn't said anything about it to her during their short private conversation in the forest because he feared her reaction. Killian had no illusions about the current fragile state of their budding relationship. Regardless of her growing feelings for him, Killian knew there was no way Emma would accept this young woman as their daughter unless she came to the conclusion on her own. If he pressed the issue too hard, if he tried to make her see the truth before she was ready, there was a strong likelihood he'd only succeed in pushing her away.

As for the girl, despite having disguised her initial shock rather well, Killian was positive she recognized them. However, she'd chosen not to let on or to reveal her true relationship to them. Judging by the panicked look on her face after she'd introduced herself, the girl clearly thought she'd given herself away by telling them her name. _Jocelyn_. If Killian had needed any further proof that she was his daughter, her name alone was more than enough to convince him. Centuries had passed since he'd heard that name, much less spoken it aloud. Jocelyn, his beloved mother, the kind, beautiful, devoted woman who had loved him fiercely up until the moment she drew her very last breath. After Liam was killed, he hadn't talked about her to anyone, not even Milah. His mother's death, coming at the end of a long and debilitating illness, was the first of many losses that had eventually broken Killian's heart almost beyond repair. That is, until Emma Swan came into his life.

_Emma, _he thought, _if only you knew_. His gaze drifted once again to her face, simply drinking her in. For so long he'd watched her from a distance, memorizing every curve and every line from his place on the far perimeter of her life. Now his place was by her side, and he savored the opportunity to study her openly. The events of the past few days had taken their toll on her, painting dark shadows beneath her eyes and drawing her lovely features tight with weariness. Even so, she was the most beautiful thing in all the realms to him. He knew he didn't deserve even her most meager of offerings, but she'd given him everything – hope for a home, a family. Somewhere to belong.

He'd fallen for her so fast and so completely it seemed to him as though he'd loved her forever, as if he'd loved her long before the day she pulled him out from underneath that stinking pile of bodies in the ruins of the Enchanted Forest. Killian's life before Emma had been far from easy, a few scarce moments of joy punctuating many long years of pain, but he would gladly relive every one of those dark years if doing so would faithfully bring him to her side. Loving Emma had pulled him away from the edge of darkness and anchored him firmly in the light. He planned to spend the rest of his life making himself worthy of her…and the daughter she would someday give him. _Starting with getting us out of this mess and back to our own time_, he thought, training his eyes on Jocelyn's slender shoulders. He didn't want to miss a single second of the life that had led to the future they were now visiting.

It was nearly dark by the time they arrived at the castle. Jocelyn halted their procession just before they reached the magnificent gate, its twin pillars adorned with enormous torches. Pausing for a moment, she laid her hand on the sleek neck of her horse. The white mare bumped her nose against Jocelyn's shoulder affectionately, making the girl smile. It was the first time she'd really smiled in their presence, and Killian's heart clenched with an emotion so strong it stole his breath. Jocelyn may have inherited his full lips and angular jaw, but her soft smile was all Emma. Seeing this beautiful young woman, this perfect combination of himself and the woman he loved, affected him deeply. Killian felt Emma's eyes on him and somehow managed to tear his gaze away from their daughter. Emma had been watching him watch Jocelyn and was now staring at him with a frown, making him wonder just how clearly his emotions showed on his face. _Get ahold of yourself, Captain,_ he chastised himself inwardly. It was difficult to control his reaction to Jocelyn, but for Emma's sake he needed to make a better effort.

Jocelyn turned to face them. "Wait here," she said. "I need to speak with the guards so they will allow you to pass." Without waiting for a reply, she approached the gate, her white mare in tow. Two guards stepped forward to greet her, bowing low when she stopped in front of them. They were too far away for Killian to hear their conversation. Beside him, Emma fidgeted anxiously.

"Do you think she can get us in?" she asked in hushed tones, squinting at Jocelyn and the guards through the semi-darkness.

Killian did not doubt that the guards would submit to Jocelyn's request. Her status as a princess notwithstanding, he imagined the daughter of the Savior and Captain Hook was a force to be reckoned with. "Oh, she'll manage," he said wryly.

A moment later, both guards bowed to Jocelyn again before one of them took the white mare's reins and began leading her and her passenger away. The other guard returned to his post beneath one of the torches, his form instantly absorbed by the evening's shadows. Jocelyn made her way back to Killian and Emma and gestured for them to follow her. "Come with me. I've sent the guard to secure you an audience with the Crown Prince."

"What about…our friend?" Emma asked, referring to the unconscious woman the guard had taken away with the horse. "Where's the guard taking her?"

"To the Blue Fairy," Jocelyn replied. She noticed Emma's concerned look and added, "Don't worry, she'll be in good hands."

"It's not that," Emma said quickly. "It's just that she wasn't even awake when we went through the portal, and she didn't quite believe us when we told her about time travel in the first place. She might be a bit…disoriented when she wakes up."

Killian snorted. "You're just worried she'll tell someone you bludgeoned her, Swan," he whispered to Emma, who rewarded him with a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"I'll be sure to share that with Blue," Jocelyn promised drolly. "Please, follow me."

Killian and Emma followed Jocelyn through the wrought iron gate, which opened into the stone courtyard where the Evil Queen had attempted to burn Snow White at the stake. Out of the corner of his eye, Killian saw Emma hesitate when she recognized the place. He recalled her helpless grief during that near-tragedy only too clearly, and he knew he wouldn't soon forget the way she had clung to him when he'd embraced her, her sobs wracking not only her own body but his as well. He reached out with his good hand, cupping her elbow gently. When she looked up at him, her eyes were haunted.

"It's all right, love," he assured her in a low voice. "Your mother is fine. She's been living here in the castle all this time."

Emma smiled slightly and leaned into him, the movement so natural Killian suspected it was unconscious. "I know, it's just that it's so…fresh…in my mind." She shuddered involuntarily. "That was the worst moment of my life," she admitted.

Killian wished he could sympathize with her, tell her that he knew how she was feeling because he'd watched his own mother die but the last thing he wanted to do given their current situation was to introduce Emma to the ghost of the original Jocelyn Jones. Bringing his mother up now would only invite more questions, and he couldn't risk raising Emma's suspicions about young Jocelyn's true identity just yet. First they needed to talk to the prince – Emma's brother, he presumed – and see if he could help them figure out a way to return to their own time. The best he could offer her for now was an empathetic smile. To his surprise, Emma smiled back and looped her arm through his. Together, they hurried to catch up to Jocelyn, who was waiting for them across the courtyard by the castle's main door.

Jocelyn swung the massive door open and led them inside, first down a cavernous hallway with very high arched ceilings, and then up a well-lit, winding set of stairs. Killian couldn't help but admire the intricate tapestries and artisan stonework that adorned the castle's walls. He'd always loved castles, and he imagined his future self must be quite happy living here. At the top of the stairs was another hallway, this one less grand than the first one they'd passed through. Jocelyn stopped in front of a door boldly emblazoned with Emma's family crest. She pushed it open, the creak of the ancient hinges echoing in the empty hallway, and motioned for Killian and Emma to go inside. To Killian's dismay, she didn't follow.

"This is the prince's study," Jocelyn said from the doorway. "You can wait for him in here." She gave them a very slight acknowledging nod before heading for the stairs.

Panic filled Killian's chest at the sight of his daughter's retreating back – if she left now, would he see her again? – and before he could stop himself he blurted out, "Wait!"

Both Jocelyn and Emma turned to stare at him. Just like when he'd spoken to her in the forest, the sound of his voice seemed to have a profound effect on Jocelyn. Her masterful façade slipped a little bit, and for a split second Killian glimpsed a staggering pain in her eyes. It made him very uneasy – perhaps their future wasn't quite as happy as he'd presumed?

"You-you're not staying?" he stammered, ignoring the look Emma was giving him.

"No," she replied with what Killian was sure was feigned indifference. "I thought I'd check in with Blue to inquire after your friend before retiring to my chamber for the evening."

"Jocelyn, before you go I just wanted to thank you," said Emma, taking a step towards her. "For believing us, and for bringing us to the castle."

Jocelyn's expression softened, the frown lines on her brow smoothing, and Killian was struck once again by how much she resembled Emma. "You're welcome," she said. "I hope the prince is able to help you find your way home." With that she turned to go, hurrying down the corridor before they could detain her yet again. Emma watched her thoughtfully until she disappeared into the stairwell, then flopped down on one of the many overstuffed chairs in the prince's study. Too agitated to sit, Killian wandered around the room, plucking objects off various surfaces and examining them half-heartedly.

"I hope you're not thinking about stealing any of my brother's trinkets," Emma said as she observed his restless movements. "My father is wary enough of you as it is."

Killian smirked. "Your father loves me," he insisted. "The next time you see him, make sure you ask him about his old mate Prince Charles." An antique sextant resting on top of a bookshelf caught his eye. He picked it up carefully, admiring the instrument's fine silver arc. "And I wouldn't dream of stealing your brother's things."

Emma snorted. "You are a pirate," she pointed out. Killian, enjoying the sudden lightening of her mood, set the sextant back down on the bookshelf and stalked over to her. With deliberate slowness, he placed his hand and hook on the arms of her chair and leaned in close, his face only a few inches from hers.

"Speaking of," he drawled, the corners of his mouth twitching when he noticed the way her gaze dropped briefly to his lips. "That was quite a blow you delivered to that poor woman's head. I've always said you'd make one hell of a pirate, Swan."

Rolling her eyes, Emma placed her hands against his chest and stood up, shoving him out of her way. "Please," she said, tossing him a decidedly flirtatious look as she crossed the room, stopping when she reached the large desk in the center. "We both know I was _born_ to be a ballroom dancer."

They laughed together, both of them remembering the dance they'd shared at King Midas' ball. "I wouldn't disagree with you there, _your highness_," he said with a bow before coming to stand beside her. He'd hoped to continue their banter while they waited for the prince, but Emma had picked up a large, ancient-looking piece of parchment and was now studying it, her brow furrowing.

"Look at this," she said, placing the parchment on the desk and smoothing it out with her hands. It was a very old map marked in several locations with fresh ink. She pointed to one of the newly made marks. "I think I recognize these symbols from Regina's spell books. It's – elvish, or dervish, or…something. Anyway, Regina said that only dark magic spells were written in this language."

"Do you know what it means?" Killian asked. Emma frowned.

"No," she said, reluctantly. "We didn't get very far with my training, and we weren't exactly focusing on dark magic. It's just something she showed me, sort of as an aside." She turned her attention back to the map. "Whatever these marks are, they seem to be converging on this point right here," she continued, indicating a small island in the middle of a large inland sea. "Hmmm…"

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure, but if there's a lot of dark magic being cast around here, it might explain why we ended up in this time instead of our own," Emma suggested. "According to Regina, dark magic acts like a magnet for itself, and Zelena's time travel spell was some seriously dark magic."

Killian shifted uncomfortably, scratching behind his ear. He was certain his own hypothesis regarding the time portal was correct, but he didn't know how to go about sharing that theory with Emma. Not without also revealing his theory about Jocelyn, and there was _no way_ he was telling her that.

He must've been silent for longer than he'd realized because he was suddenly roused out of his thoughts by Emma saying repeatedly, "Earth to Killian, come in Killian." He looked at her, frowning at the unfamiliar phrase. If they ever made it back to Storybrooke, he really needed to try and absorb more of the peculiar vernacular of that world. "Are you still with me over there?" Emma asked. "I didn't think my theory was _that_ far out of line."

"It's not that," Killian began, but she quickly interrupted him.

"What is going on with you? You've been acting strange ever since we ran into Jocelyn. It's like she…gets to you." She cast her eyes downward, gazing very intently at the map. "Is there something about her…I mean, do you…" She trailed off awkwardly, a blush creeping steadily up the column of her neck.

_Oh gods,_ Killian realized suddenly. _She's jealous. She thinks I'm…attracted…to Jocelyn._ It was absolutely preposterous – the girl was his _daughter_ – but of course Emma didn't know that. She'd apparently misconstrued his reaction to Jocelyn as romantic interest. As ridiculous as it was to him, if he considered things from Emma's perspective he could see why she might have jumped to that conclusion. When she looked at Jocelyn, all she saw was the strong resemblance to herself, and of course she might assume he would be attracted to a woman who looked like her.

"Emma, it's – " he started to say. Just then, a noise from the doorway startled them both. Killian turned towards the sound, and immediately received his second serious shock of the day.

A man who could only be the Crown Prince stood in the doorway. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his strong frame distinctly reminiscent of Emma's father David. His hazel eyes, wide beneath a shock of dark hair, were the exact same shape as Emma's.

Otherwise he was a dead ringer for his father.

The man's gaze came to rest on Emma, his facial expression a complex combination of strong emotions: joy, disbelief, sorrow. Killian heard Emma gasp. He placed his hand on the small of her back to steady her. A moment later, the Crown Prince spoke.

"Mom?" said Henry, wonderingly, the timbre of his voice deep and full. "Is it really you?"


	3. The Crown Prince

CHAPTER THREE: The Crown Prince (_Jocelyn's POV_)

Jocelyn managed to make it almost the entire way to the royal apartments before her emotions finally overwhelmed her. Just like that, she couldn't breathe. She fell back against the cool stone wall, squeezing her eyes shut to ward off the deluge of tears straining to burst forth. When she'd veered off the Western Road to investigate the strange column of light that had appeared in the sky, the last thing in all the realms she'd expected to find was her parents. At first, she'd been so happy to see them it had taken her several shell-shocked seconds to realize that the Emma and Killian standing before her were very much younger than the Emma and Killian who had gone missing five years ago. Even so, it had required every ounce of control she possessed not to throw herself into their arms. Their absence from her life was still an acute ache despite the passage of time.

A strangled sob escaped Jocelyn's lips as her legs suddenly buckled beneath her. She tried to catch herself, her hands scrabbling for purchase against smooth stone, but found herself crashing to the floor anyway. On the way down she managed to dislodge a pair of samurai swords – sheathed, thankfully – that were mounted on the wall. The swords hit the floor with an impressive clatter, the sound drawing a tall blond man through the open door just down the hall. Jocelyn breathed a sigh of relief as he drew near – it was only her uncle, Prince Neal. She would've hated having to explain her current state to one of the servants.

"Jocelyn!" exclaimed Neal, hurrying towards her. He crouched down beside her, his pale blue eyes wide with concern. Putting a strong arm around her waist, he helped Jocelyn to her feet. She clung to him gratefully. "Come inside and sit down."

In a state of shock, Jocelyn allowed Neal to guide her into his apartment and sit her down on an oversize settee in front of the fireplace. She sank back against the cushions, feeling very much as though she might faint. Neal sat down next to her and took both of her hands in his. "It's true then," he said, observing the fine sheen of sweat on Jocelyn's brow and her sickly pallor. "My sister and Killian, they're here…from the past."

She nodded slowly, struggling to calm the storm of emotions raging within her. Making a concerted effort, she managed to focus on Neal's face. The dancing light from the fireplace accentuated the deep lines of worry that crossed his forehead as he took in her appearance. Although he was her uncle, Neal was only three years Jocelyn's senior. They'd been raised together and their relationship was more like that of siblings rather than uncle and niece. Admittedly, most of the time Jocelyn felt closer to Neal than she did to her own brother. Henry had been fifteen when she was born and twenty when their family returned to the Enchanted Forest. Although he loved Jocelyn and was very protective of her, Henry's responsibilities as Crown Prince had often prevented him from spending time with his baby sister. It was really only after their parents' disappearance that Jocelyn and Henry had become close.

"They came here through a time portal," Jocelyn said in a rush. "I'm not sure from when, exactly, but they had an unconscious woman with them, so I think they might have come here accidentally from the past." Jocelyn wrinkled her brow as she struggled to articulate her theory. "Well, of course they're here from the past, but I meant the _distant_ past. Where they went when they fell through the Wicked Witch's portal twenty-three years ago. Something must've gone wrong when they tried to return to their own time and they ended up here instead of in Storybrooke."

Neal gave a low whistle, dropping Jocelyn's hands and rising to his feet. He began to pace. "If that's the case, then the woman with them must be – "

"Marian Locksley," Jocelyn finished for him. "Roland's mother. That's my guess. I was so young when she died, I don't really remember her, but she looks like him."

Neal stopped pacing and raked a hand through his hair, further disarranging the unruly thicket of golden curls. He looked at Jocelyn significantly. "Have you told Roland?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "No, I haven't had the chance. I just wanted to get them to the castle as fast as I could. No one knows about my parents or Marian being here except for the night guards, and Blue – " She cut herself off as realization dawned on her. "Wait a minute, how did you know?"

"This castle has many eyes and word travels fast, you know that. The dwarves were up in the tower when you arrived and Leroy saw you leading Emma and Killian through the courtyard," said Neal. He couldn't help but grin. "I imagine the whole kingdom must know by now."

Jocelyn groaned. "Has Henry heard?" she asked.

"Has Henry heard what?" Jocelyn jumped up at the sound of her brother's voice. Henry rushed through the door, his long strides carrying him quickly across the room. He embraced Jocelyn without preamble, and from the way he gripped her she knew he must've heard the news. Henry released her after a long moment, holding her by the shoulders so he could look her in the eyes.

"Are you all right, Joss?" he asked, his voice heavy with concern. Hearing her nickname brought fresh tears to Jocelyn's eyes – her father had given it to her when she was just a little girl. Through her watery gaze, she noticed how Henry's eyes shone and realized he was close to tears himself.

"I-I don't know," she answered honestly. "I've missed them so much and it's hard because it's them, but it's _not_ them, you know?" Henry hummed in sympathy. "I didn't let on that I knew who they were, so this is going to sound a bit mad, but I think Dad…recognized me, somehow. Or at least, I think he's guessed who I am." She fell silent, her tears getting the best of her for a moment.

"What about Mom?" Henry pressed, reluctantly. Jocelyn pulled away from him, crossing her arms over her chest, and turned her face away. Henry and Neal exchanged a look over the top of her head. They both knew that, despite the deep bond of love between them, Jocelyn's relationship with Emma had been strained at times, especially after she hit her teenage years.

Finally Jocelyn met Henry's eyes again. "She had no idea," she said in a stilted voice.

The corners of Henry's mouth turned down and he sighed. "Don't take it personally, Joss," he said kindly, attempting to reassure her. "If they've come here from the time I think, Mom was only just starting to accept her place in our family, much less admit she had feelings for Killian. She's always been stubborn, you know that, but back then…" He grimaced at the memory. "Sometimes it was like talking to a brick wall. She was in denial about a lot of things at that point in her life."

Jocelyn wasn't exactly comforted by Henry's words, but she didn't have the energy to argue with him. "So you have a pretty good idea when they're coming from?" she asked, purposely changing the subject. She could tell from her brother's expression that he knew she was deflecting, but graciously he let it slide.

"They have Marian Locksley with them. I was with Blue when the guard brought Marian to her," he explained. "That's how I learned of their arrival. Marian was with Mom and Killian when they came back through Zelena's time portal twenty-three years ago."

"That's what Jocelyn thought, too," said Neal. "Someone needs to tell Roland."

"I'll tell him," Jocelyn volunteered. She could feel Neal's eyes burning a hole in the side of her head but she stubbornly refused to look at him. "I'll talk to him as soon as we're done here."

"Fine, fine," Henry agreed distractedly, oblivious to the silent interplay between his sister and their uncle. "And I should go talk to our…guests. Where are they?"

"I brought them to your study and told them to wait there for 'the Crown Prince,'" said Jocelyn. She paused, then quirked her eyebrow in a gesture very much reminiscent of her father. "By the way, I left out the part about the Crown Prince being you."

"Great," Henry sighed. "Let's hope they don't pass out from the shock." He sat down heavily on the settee and buried his face in his hands. "Neal, I need you to send birds to Regina and Rumpelstiltskin asking them to come here as soon as they can. Hopefully they'll have some insight into how Mom and Killian ended up here in the first place and how to get them back to their own time."

Neal headed immediately for the door. "I'll get on it right away," he said.

"While you're at it, you better send for your parents, too," Henry called after him. "In the meantime, I don't think we should tell my mom and Killian anything about the past twenty-three years. I'm not sure what the consequences would be and, assuming we are able to send them back to their own time, we don't want to risk altering the timeline. I don't think they'll argue, considering what happened during their own trip to the past. There's a good chance we'll be able to concoct a memory loss potion to make them forget anything they learn while they're here, but until we know for sure, we need to proceed with caution."

Neal nodded, and with one last glance at Jocelyn, continued out the door. As soon as Neal was gone, Henry turned to Jocelyn, his face solemn. "Joss, I hate to ask this of you, but I think you should steer clear of Mom and Killian, at least until we can consult Regina and my grandfather," he said gently. "Even if Killian suspects you're their daughter, he won't tell Mom. He understands her better than anyone and I'm sure he knows she might shut down if she learns the truth. I know this is difficult, but until we know what we're dealing with it's better for everyone if we keep Mom in the dark about you."

"I understand," Jocelyn made herself say, somehow managing to sound as though her heart _wasn't_ breaking.

"That's my girl," Henry said, standing up to give her a hug. "I guess I better go talk to them now before Mom gets restless and starts wandering around the castle." He must have noticed Jocelyn's melancholy, because before he released her he added, "We're getting close to finding them, Joss. Grandpa's army has been closing in on Morgana's lair for months and he's almost positive she's hiding on an island in the Crystal Sea. We'll see them again, I promise you."

Jocelyn decided not to point out that _finding_ Morgana wasn't nearly so much of a problem as _defeating_ her would surely be. Morgana was an extremely powerful evil sorceress. She'd been terrorizing the realms for over one thousand years, since the time of the great King Arthur, and her malevolence was legendary. It was she who had taken Emma prisoner five years ago. Irrational with rage and grief, Killian had gone off on his own to rescue her and when he failed to return to the castle, the family presumed he'd been captured as well.

"Do you really think they're still alive?" Jocelyn mumbled into Henry's chest. She knew he didn't want to hear it, but she couldn't stop herself from asking. It had been five years, after all – given Morgana's reputation, there was a very real chance that Emma and Killian were dead.

Henry sighed deeply and loosened his grip on Jocelyn just enough to lean back and meet her eyes. "I have to believe they're alive," he said earnestly. "It's just who I am."

Jocelyn tried not to be frustrated by Henry's response, but bitterness welled up in her chest anyway. _Must be nice to be the Truest Believer_, she thought sarcastically. _Am I the only person in this family who can't seem to see the glass as half full?_ She ducked out of Henry's embrace before she could blurt out something she'd regret later. "Good luck with Past Mom and Dad. Update me in the morning."

Turning her back on her brother's pained look, Jocelyn left the apartment. She jogged down the hall, needing to put some distance between herself and Henry. She knew he meant well, but he couldn't possibly understand how she was feeling, how difficult this whole ordeal was for her. He thought she was upset simply because of the difficultly of encountering these young, unfamiliar versions of their parents while trying to deal with the long absence of the versions of them she knew and loved. Unfortunately, there was more to it than that. No one else could _truly_ understand how Jocelyn was feeling in that moment because no one else knew the terrible truth – her parents' disappearance was all her fault. Jocelyn paused her flight and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes against the onslaught of memories threatening to overwhelm her.

_The summer Jocelyn turned fifteen, her father, an admiral in her grandfather's Royal Navy, was sent away on a mission. Traces of dark magic were being detected all over the Enchanted Forest, and Killian's crew had been commissioned to investigate. Regina would be accompanying them as an advisor. Emma begged him not to go, saying she had a very bad feeling about the source of the dark magic. Killian dismissed her worries lightheartedly, assuring her that Regina would never allow any harm to come to him because she "feared having her arse handed to her by the Savior yet again." When it became clear that Killian had no intentions of backing down from the mission, Emma insisted upon accompanying them. Both Killian and David protested, telling Emma that someone needed to stay to protect the castle and keep an eye on the children. Eventually Emma relented, but she wasn't happy about it, and she passed the long weeks of Killian's deployment locked in the library, devouring every book she could find on the subject of dark magic. _

_Emma's paranoia regarding the threat lurking somewhere in the Enchanted Forest also extended to her daughter's safety. She forbade Jocelyn from venturing outside the castle walls without an entourage of guards. Of course, fifteen-year-old Jocelyn, who had previously enjoyed a great deal of independence, thought her mother was being ridiculously overprotective. She was practically an adult, not to mention an excellent swordswoman, and she possessed magic. Not just any magic, but extremely powerful light magic the fairies speculated might someday even surpass the Savior's. She could certainly take care of herself. One morning, scarcely a fortnight after her mother had laid out the terms of her imprisonment, Jocelyn slipped past the guards and headed down to the river for a swim. This seemingly innocuous act of teenage rebellion would end up being the biggest mistake of her young life._

_After her swim, Jocelyn lingered by the river, sunning herself on a large rock. As time stretched on, it became apparent that her thick, wavy hair was never going to dry before she was due back at the castle for brunch with her mother and grandmother. Rather than risking discovery by going to brunch with wet hair, Jocelyn used her magic to dry it the rest of the way. Problem solved, she gathered up her belongings and was preparing to head home when a strange woman appeared. She was beautiful, her long mane of sleek dark hair contrasting sharply with her porcelain skin. She regarded Jocelyn thoughtfully through unnaturally pale, cunning green eyes. Jocelyn knew instinctively that the woman was a dark sorceress – the air around her practically sizzled with elemental power. Jocelyn's mouth went dry with fear._

"_What have we here?" the sorceress sneered. "A little baby witch wandering through the forest all alone? What's your name, baby witch?"_

"_I – I'm not a witch," Jocelyn insisted. "I didn't mean any harm. It's light magic I possess, and I only used it because – "_

_With a flick of her wrist, the sorceress cast an immobilization spell, freezing Jocelyn's words in her throat. She found herself suspended in the air, unable to move or speak. "I felt your pitiful light magic from leagues away," the sorceress hissed, coming to stand directly in front of Jocelyn, so close she felt the woman's hot breath on her cheek. "It's light magic I seek," the sorceress continued conversationally. The gleam in her eyes made Jocelyn very uneasy; she wasn't sure if this woman was completely sane. "I'm a collector, you see."_

"_Get away from my daughter!" If she had been able to speak, Jocelyn would have cried out in relief. Her mother stepped into the clearing, so furious her magic radiated off her skin in waves, casting a white glow all around her body. She looked every inch the avenging goddess, her long blond hair flowing out behind her as she stalked towards the woman who had captured her daughter. _

"_Oh, it gets better!" the sorceress squealed, clapping her hands in delight. "I've been looking for __**you**__ for a __**very**__ long time, Savior." _

"_I don't know who you are or what you want with me," Emma growled through clenched teeth. "But if you know what's good for you, you'll let my daughter go right now." She thrust her hands forward and a rope of white light burst from her fingertips, winding itself around her opponent and pinning the woman's hands to her sides. The sorceress struggled for a few moments before going completely still, regarding Emma sullenly._

"_And if I refuse?"_

"_I will gladly send you back to whatever hell you crawled out of," Emma replied. The white rope tightened visibly and the sorceress let out a dainty cough._

_ "I'll take that to mean you have no idea who I am?" she asked. Emma shrugged._

_ "You're just another big bad trying to trip up my happy ending," she said flippantly. She lifted her hand and the rope tightened further. The sorceress smiled secretly, and a feeling of deep dread seized Jocelyn. Silently, invisibly, she struggled against the spell holding her frozen in place. Something very, very bad was about to happen – she could feel it – and she was desperate to warn her mother._

_ "Oh, I'm much more than that," the sorceress declared. Suddenly, the white rope restraining her disappeared into thin air. The sorceress stepped towards Emma, easily parrying the bolt of lightening the Savior conjured before casually immobilizing her with the same spell she'd used on Jocelyn. _

_ "Morgana Pendragon," the sorceress introduced herself with a small, polite curtsy. "Perhaps you've heard of me?" Emma simply glared at her. Morgana frowned. "Oh, that's right...my apologies. There, is that better?" She flicked her wrist again, freeing Emma's head and neck while keeping the rest of her locked in place. _

_ "Yes, I've heard of you," Emma said evenly. To Jocelyn's ears, it sounded as though she was trying not to panic. "Please, let my daughter go. She's just a girl."_

_ "Hmmm…now why would I do that?" asked Morgana, tilting her head to the side, clearly enjoying the situation very much. _

_ "I'll do anything you say," Emma said immediately. "I'm begging you, just let her go." _

_Every fiber of Joceyln's being screamed in protest. She tried calling upon her magic but couldn't seem to tap into it. Whether it was Morgana's spell or her own fear holding her powers captive, the end result was the same. Trapped inside her own body, Jocelyn could do nothing except watch the scene between her mother and the evil sorceress unfold. _

_Morgana deliberated for a long moment. "All right," she finally agreed. "I'll let her go, but you're coming with me." She fully immobilized Emma again, before she could say another word, then turned towards Jocelyn. Another casual flick of Morgana's wrist sent her tumbling to the ground, the spell no longer binding her._

"_Mother!" Jocelyn screamed. She met Emma's frozen gaze, her mother's eyes clearly holding a message: __**I love you. I'm sorry.**__ Jocelyn scrambled to her feet, only to have the world go black a moment later when Morgana disabled her again, this time with a sleeping curse. The next time she opened her eyes she found herself staring at her father's stricken face, his handsome features ravaged by worry and sorrow. He'd returned home from his mission to find Emma missing and his daughter in a magical coma. He'd awakened Jocelyn with True Love's Kiss, but she couldn't quite bring herself to tell him the whole truth, to admit that if it wasn't for her foolish disobedience none of this ever would've happened. Instead, she told him only that it was Morgana who had taken her mother prisoner. Despite warnings from David, Snow, and Henry, Killian immediately left the castle to search for his beloved wife, never to return. _

Jocelyn's mind came back to the present slowly, her body shivering violently as she finally managed to shove the awful memories out of her head. She grabbed a torch from the wall and swung it around in a broad circle, suddenly realizing where she'd run to. Her hasty, blind retreat from Neal's apartment had brought her straight to the door of the apartment she had once occupied with her parents. It had been vacant since their disappearance. After Killian failed to return from his search, Jocelyn moved in with her grandparents, unable to remain in the dwelling that held so many happy memories of her parents. After her eighteenth birthday, she'd moved into her own suite of rooms in the castle's western wing, just about as far from her parents' apartment as she could get.

Swallowing around the hard lump that had formed in her throat, Jocelyn studied the stained glass inset in the door for a long moment before finally pushing it open and stepping inside. The faint torch light didn't penetrate very far into the dark apartment, but Jocelyn didn't need the light. She knew the layout of these rooms intimately. She walked through the foyer into the great room, her eyes drinking in the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, the slate fireplace and comfortable furniture, so familiar it made her heart ache. Her father's study, which was really more like a museum for the various treasures he'd collected during his years at sea, was off to the right. The apartment's three bedrooms were located down a hallway to the left, which was where Jocelyn drifted to now. She continued down the hall to the door all the way at the end, the one that led into her parents' bedroom. Once inside, she snuffed out the torch and placed it on the nightstand before climbing onto the bed and curling up on top of the quilt. She buried her face in the pillows, childishly hoping her parents' scents still lingered there. Instead, she smelled only the strong fresh scent of the soap the castle maids used for the laundry. Alone in her misery, Jocelyn pressed a pillow to her midsection, curling her body around it in a weak attempt to quell the churning of her stomach.


	4. Twenty-Three Years

CHAPTER FOUR: Twenty-three Years (_Emma's POV_)

Emma Swan was not the fainting type – she was a former thief, a bail bondsperson, a sheriff, the Savior, a goddamn _dragon slayer,_ for crying out loud. In other words, Emma Swan was one tough cookie. Nevertheless, if it hadn't been for Killian's hand pressed into her back, Emma knew there was a very good chance she might've fainted dead away at the sight of her son standing before her, fully grown and looking every inch a handsome prince.

"Mom?" Henry repeated. The word, spoken in a man's voice, sounded completely foreign to Emma. When she didn't respond and simply continued to stare at him stupidly, he addressed the man behind her, his voice growing unsure. "Killian?"

Something clicked inside Emma then, and she felt the deep, primeval connection between mother and child pull at her heart, the same feeling she'd had two years ago when a ten-year-old boy had shown up on the doorstep of her Boston apartment. All at once she saw that same little boy behind the strong masculine features of the man in front of her – Henry's wide hazel eyes and haphazard dark hair, the same smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Before Killian had a chance to reply, Emma lurched forward, holding out her arms.

"Henry!" she cried, pulling her adult son into a bone-crushing embrace. Henry returned the hug in equal measure, holding onto her with a strength that made tears well up in Emma's eyes. Her little boy, all grown up. She felt him rest his chin on the top of her head and she suddenly realized he was even taller than her father. They held tight to one another for a long moment, then Henry pulled away, giving Emma a small smile before turning to embrace Killian. If Emma was shocked by the warmth of the greeting, Killian was absolutely dumbfounded, and several seconds passed before he finally lifted his arms, clapping Henry awkwardly on the back with his good hand. Henry laughed as he released him, leaving Emma wondering about Killian's role in this strange future they now found themselves in.

Before she could contemplate further, Henry turned to her and asked, "How on earth did you two end up here? The fact that you brought a…companion…gives me a pretty good idea _when_ you're coming from, but the _how_ is pretty fuzzy."

Emma and Killian exchanged a look. "We've been wondering about that ourselves," she said, still trying to adjust to the strangeness of interacting with an adult Henry. _This must be how my parents feel every day_, she thought ironically. "You mentioned that our…friend...is a clue to when we are coming from. Do you know who she is? She never did tell us her name."

Henry looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Yes," he admitted. "I know who she is and why you brought her with you. I know all about your trip to the past, how you interrupted Grandma and Grandpa meeting and then had to set it back right. You told me the story yourself, of course, but it's also in the Book."

"I'm in the Book now?" Emma repeated, stunned. Henry grinned.

"Yep, you are, and Killian is, too," he said with a nod in Killian's direction. "Nice aliases, by the way. Prince Charles and Princess Leia? I think I snorted hot cocoa out of my nose the first time I read that part and after I knew it was the two of you."

Emma grunted. "Well, the Dread Pirate here was no help at all and those were the first names I could think of," she grumbled.

"In my defense, I was a bit…preoccupied…with the gravity of the situation," Killian protested. Emma rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, you were preoccupied all right," she muttered, mostly under her breath. "With my cleavage, that is…"

Henry coughed and Killian looked mortified. Emma suddenly realized that, even though Henry was a grown man, he probably still didn't want to hear about men ogling his mother's cleavage. _Oh god_, she thought, twin spots of red forming on her cheeks. _This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder._

"Uh, sorry," she apologized. "Getting back to our…current situation. In your timeline, Henry, we made it back to Storybrooke?"

"Yes," Henry replied quickly, obviously relieved to direct the focus of the conversation away from Emma's breasts. "In our perception, you were gone only a few hours but for the two of you it was several days."

"And what of the woman?" Killian asked. Henry sighed and walked across the room to his desk. He perched on the edge of it, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't think I should tell you too much more about things that happened after you came back from the past," he said regretfully. "Even the smallest of changes to the timeline can have far-reaching repercussions. And big changes, well, they can irrevocably alter the course of the future from that point forward. I don't think you need me to tell you that." Emma grimaced, remembering how close they'd come to getting her mother killed and erasing her very existence during their adventure in the past. "After you returned to Storybrooke, you never mentioned taking a detour to the future. There's a possibility it didn't happen the first time around and we are now experiencing some sort of alternate dimension, or something like that. If we can send you back to your own time, the less you know about the future, the better."

"What if we _did_ travel here and we just didn't remember?" Emma asked. "Mr. Gold – Rumpelstiltskin – sort of helped us in the past, and before we left he took a memory loss potion to forget about us so he wouldn't end up making different choices because of what we'd told him. It was his wand I used to reopen Zelena's time portal. If we can get ahold of that wand again, and make some memory loss potion, maybe we can get home."

"We don't even know for sure if the Dark One ever swallowed that potion, love," Killian pointed out. "Who knows what that infernal imp might have done after locking us up in his vault."

"But he did take it," Emma insisted. Killian looked confused, and it dawned on her that he'd jumped through the portal first and didn't know about Rumple detaining her. "After you went through the portal, Rumple appeared. That's why I didn't follow you right away. He started asking all these questions about Neal – he thought maybe he could change what happened to him." She fell silent, remorse rising in her chest. Her inability to save Neal was a failure that would always weigh heavily on her mind. "Luckily, I managed to convince him to take the potion."

"It's a possibility," said Henry seriously. "You could've come here and then taken a memory loss potion to forget. However, I should warn you that kind of potion can be tricky. It requires a lot of ingredients and very careful brewing. Fortunately, I've already sent word of your arrival to both Rumple and Regina. I'm sure they'll have some insight into how you ended up here and how to go about sending you back. In the meantime, I think it's probably in everyone's best interests if the two of you stay hidden."

"I would tend to agree, lad," Killian said, then smiled at his own guffaw. Clearly, Henry was no longer a 'lad,' but old habits die hard. "Or perhaps I should call you 'Your Highness,' seeing as you _are_ the Crown Prince."

Henry laughed heartily. "Don't bother," he said, eyes twinkling. "Most people around here still treat me like I'm ten years old, even when I'm giving them orders. I think the dwarves command more respect than I do most of the time."

The turn in the conversation suddenly reminded Emma of something Jocelyn had said about the Crown Prince when she first offered to escort them to the castle. "Henry," she said. "The girl who found us – Jocelyn – she said the Crown Prince studied magic." She paused. "Do you have magic?"

"I've studied it, yes," he replied. "But I don't possess it. We've had some…problems…in recent years, with evidence of dark magic showing up all over the kingdom. I thought it would be prudent, given my place in the line of succession, for me to familiarize myself with the subject. I've never been able to wield magic myself, though. In our family, it's just you and my – " He cut himself off abruptly, flustered. " – mother. My other mother, I mean. Regina."

Emma noticed Killian and Henry exchanging a meaningful glance. She frowned, wondering what that look could possibly convey. After all, Henry and Killian – this version of Killian, anyway – hardly knew each other, certainly not well enough to communicate silently. "I have a theory about that," she blurted out. Two pairs of eyes, one set of blue and one of hazel, immediately locked on her face.

"About Regina?" Henry asked, mirroring Emma's frown. She shook her head.

"No, no – about the dark magic," she clarified. "Regina once told me that dark magic attracts itself, like a magnet. The more sinister the magic, the stronger the attraction will be." She walked over to Henry, who was still leaning against the desk, and reached around him to retrieve the map she and Killian had been looking at earlier. "I recognized the symbols on this map as dark magic spells. I thought that, maybe, when I reactivated Zelena's time portal, the dark magic here somehow pulled us in."

Henry regarded her thoughtfully. "I actually had that same thought myself," he said. "But again, Rumple or Regina would know better than me."

Satisfied with this answer for now, Emma recalled the other assumption she'd made when Jocelyn had mentioned the Crown Prince. "How is that you are the Crown Prince?" she asked. "I'll be the first to admit I don't know much about royal titles or the line of succession, but I always thought the Crown Prince or Princess was the one next in line to the throne. Shouldn't that be…me…or my brother?"

Henry sighed again. "I don't know if this is true of all royal dynasties, but in our family the line of succession passes directly from firstborn child to firstborn child. So, as your firstborn son I actually outrank N – er, your brother."

Emma felt Killian's eyes on her and she turned to face him. She saw the same question reflected in his gaze that had been bothering her ever since they'd met Jocelyn. _Where am I in this future? _she thought, feeling very uneasy. She met Henry's eyes, which had become troubled and sad.

"Henry, I know you don't want to tell us anything about the future, and I do understand, but please…when you all moved to the Enchanted Forest, did I come with you?" she asked bluntly. She heard Killian draw in a sharp breath. Henry was silent for a long moment as he considered his response.

"Yes, you came with us," he replied finally. He glanced at Killian. "You both did." Emma let out her breath in a rush. At least she hadn't been left behind again.

"How long ago was that?" she asked, thinking maybe she was pushing her luck, but to her surprise Henry responded right away.

"Twenty-three years ago," he said. Emma's mouth dropped open. She glanced at Killian, who looked grim but not necessarily surprised. Henry's appearance was a definite clue that quite a bit of time had passed, but Emma hadn't tried to translate her son's aging into years. _Twenty-three years, _she thought. _That would make Henry thirty-five. _The son standing next to her was older than she was. It was all just too bizarre. A million questions raced through her head, but there was really only one she was desperate for Henry to answer. She couldn't shake the feeling that something _very bad_ had happened to her and, possibly, to Killian, in this future. It would explain why Jocelyn didn't seem to know who they were.

"Are we still here…now? Somewhere here in the castle, maybe?" Emma pressed. She wasn't sure how much more Henry would be willing to tell her, but she had to try. Henry's mouth formed a hard line.

"You are both still here in the Enchanted Forest," he said, closing his eyes wearily. When he opened them again his expression was beseeching. "Please, Mom, I can't tell you anything more than that."

"All right, all right," Emma relented. "Can you tell me anything about Jocelyn then? I know she's a relative, but she didn't seem to know who we were – "

"I think that probably falls under the category of things he can't tell us until we consult with Regina and the Dark One," Killian interjected. Henry shot him a grateful look.

"That would be correct," he said. "It's getting late, and I'm sure you must be tired. There are plenty of empty bedrooms here in the castle if you'd like to stay."

It had been dusk when they first arrived at the castle, but now that Henry had pointed it out, Emma noticed the sky outside the windows was pitch black. She realized she was dirty and exhausted, and after spending the past several nights sleeping on the forest floor she had to admit the prospect of sleeping in an actual bed sounded absolutely fabulous. "Well, it's not like we have so many other appealing options," she said with a smile.

"Follow me," Henry said, starting for the door, Emma and Killian falling in step behind him. They made their way down the long corridor and up what felt like an endless flight of stairs. Both Emma and Killian were panting by the time they reached the top.

Henry noticed their labored breathing. "Sorry," he said. "I know it's a bit of a hike, but I figured it was best if I gave you rooms in a more private part of the castle. It could be…awkward…if someone were to discover you." He stopped finally in front of a blue door with a beautiful stained glass inset. "This is one of the castle's finest suites. It has a balcony overlooking the Eastern Sea." He smiled at Killian as he swung the door open. "I thought you might appreciate the view."

"Thank you," Emma and Killian said in unison. Their eyes met, and Killian smiled softly, a private little gesture meant solely for her. Emma looked down at her feet, suddenly shy now that she was faced with the prospect of spending the night alone with him.

"You'll find everything you need in these rooms," Henry was saying. "We keep the beds freshly made and there are plenty of towels in the bathroom. There might even be some clothes in the wardrobes, although I don't know about the selection." He gave Emma a brief hug. "I'll check on you first thing in the morning and bring you something to eat. It will be just like Storybrooke – Granny's pancakes and hot cocoa for breakfast."

"Granny is here at the castle?" Emma exclaimed. Her heart warmed at the thought of the older woman puttering around a huge medieval kitchen, barking orders and sending the staff scurrying in all directions.

"She's our head chef," said Henry affectionately.

Killian groaned aloud. "Just so long as she doesn't try and serve us that repulsive _tuna fish casserole_," he muttered, practically spitting out the last three words. "In all my years I can't say I ever tasted anything so foul. A bloody waste of perfectly good seafood if you ask me." Emma and Henry both laughed.

"Luckily there are no tuna in the Enchanted Forest," Henry said when they'd recovered. He turned to Killian, taking his arm. "Killian, why don't we give Mom some time to get cleaned up? There's something I'd like to show you." He gave Killian another significant look.

"Of course," Killian said slowly. Emma tried desperately to catch his eye but he kept his gaze locked on Henry.

Emma was baffled. Henry wanted to speak with Killian alone? Apparently she hadn't imagined the look that had passed between them earlier. "I guess I'll just…go get cleaned up," she said with a twinge of annoyance. "Good night, Henry. I love you."

Henry's face softened and he hugged her again, more forcefully this time. "I love you, too," he whispered. Emma felt the fine tremor in his arms and was more sure than ever that her son was hiding something from her, but she knew he wouldn't tell her anything more right now. After he released her, Henry removed a torch from the wall and handed it to her. "Here, you'll need this to light the lamps in the suite."

Reluctantly, Emma stepped through the blue door, leaving Henry and Killian standing in the hallway. Henry shut the door behind her. It was very dark inside the suite compared to the well-lit corridors and stairwells they'd just passed through. Emma tentatively crossed through the small foyer and into a large room. The wall opposite where she was standing was basically all windows, their tall frames simply decorated with filmy white sheers. Emma spotted an oil lamp sitting on an end table near an arrangement of cozy looking sofas and chairs in the center of the room. She lit the wick carefully, instantly bathing the room in a warm glow. To her right was a large slate fireplace and next to that was a door. Still carrying the torch, Emma made her way over to investigate. The room appeared to be a study. Its walls were lined with bookcases that held not only books but a wide variety of objects of varying shapes and sizes. She could only guess at the function of most of them, but many seemed to have a nautical theme, which was fitting considering Henry had said the suite overlooked the sea.

Emma left the study and walked to the other side of the large room where she discovered a short hallway with four doors. She decided to check out the one at the end first. It turned out to be an impressive master suite, complete with an enormous four poster bed. Emma lit the oil lamp on the nightstand and was surprised to find a recently spent torch lying there. _Must've been a servant,_ she thought distractedly, squinting in the dim light to see what lay beyond the partially open door on the far side of the room. Emma pushed the door open the rest of the way, her mouth falling open as her eyes took in the sight of the most luxurious bathroom she'd ever seen. She made her way around the perimeter of the octagonal room, lighting the numerous lamps adorning the walls before finally snuffing out her torch. A marble bath tub, nearly as large as the average above-ground swimming pool back in her world, was the centerpiece of the room. Above it was a picture window through which Emma could just make out the gentle swell of moonlit ocean waves. A pair of matching wardrobes flanked the tub, and next to each wardrobe were his-and-hers sinks, complete with mirrors and dressing tables.

Emma studied herself in one of the mirrors, grimacing at her reflection. Her face and clothes were smudged with dirt and her hair looked downright scraggly. She longed for a soak in the giant bath tub and was both shocked and overjoyed to discover the castle had functional indoor plumbing. She turned the faucets on full blast and although the water wasn't piping hot, it was warm enough. A small shelf next to the tub held a variety of scented soaps and shampoos. Emma selected a lavender soap that reminded her of Mary Margaret's favorite perfume and poured some into the tub. Quickly she shed her boots and clothes, then slipped into the water with a contented groan.

"I could stay here forever," she announced to the empty room. Or at least for as long as it took to wash away the accumulated grime from several days of travelling through the Enchanted Forest – both past and future. After all, things could get _terribly_ awkward if Killian came back and stumbled upon her naked in the bath tub. Emma tried unsuccessfully to pretend the shiver that passed through her was due to the lukewarm water and _not_ thoughts of what might happen if Killian found her this way. _Maybe awkward isn't quite the right word_, Emma thought wryly_._

Forcing wayward thoughts of _Killian_ and _naked in the bath tub_ out of her head, Emma concentrated on lathering up her hair. There was still the pressing matter of how they'd ended up in the future and, more importantly, how they were going to get home. On top of all that was the prickling sense of unease she couldn't seem to shake. Henry's behavior when she inquired as to the whereabouts of her and Killian's future selves had not assuaged her concern, but for now all she could do was try and push it out of her mind and hope that Regina and Rumpelstiltskin would have some answers.

Then there was the girl, Jocelyn. Killian thought she was hiding something, and despite her curious inability to read the girl, Emma was inclined to agree. She frowned, sinking down into the water up to her chin, remembering Killian's strange reaction to Jocelyn and how she had also reacted strongly to him. At first – in an uncharacteristic fit of jealousy – Emma had thought perhaps Killian was attracted to her. Jocelyn did bear a close resemblance to herself, and like she'd said to Killian in the tavern just before she'd gone to distract his past self, Emma knew she was his type. However, the more she thought about it, the more she doubted that was the case. For one, the unusual interaction between the two of them seemed to have deeper roots than simple physical attraction. In Killian's case, it was almost like he was in _awe_ of Jocelyn, and in her case it was as though she was _devastated_ by him. Henry had interrupted them the last time she'd tried to broach the subject with Killian, but she wouldn't let him off the hook – she smiled at her own inadvertent pun – so easily next time.

_Henry_. Emma found her thoughts turning to her son. Although it was uncanny to see him as a grown man, Emma couldn't help but feel proud of the way he'd turned out. He was handsome and confident, so very much like Neal in appearance, and yet at his core he still possessed the same pure, gentle spirit that had defined him as a boy. _The Truest Believer, _Emma thought. They had to get back to their own time, if for no other reason than so she could have the pleasure of watching her son grow into the man she'd met today.

The water was starting to turn uncomfortably cold. Reluctantly, Emma drained the tub and climbed out. She dried herself off with a plush towel plucked from a generous stack next to one of the sinks, then began perusing the contents of the wardrobes. The first one she opened just happened to be full of women's clothing. She pursed her lips, remembering the uncomfortable stiff fabrics and corsets of the clothes she'd worn during their trip to the past – not exactly the best choice for sleepwear. Thankfully, she found a soft white robe hanging on the inside of the wardrobe door. Dropping her towel to the floor, Emma shrugged into the robe and secured the ties around her waist before padding back out to the bedroom in her bare feet. She stretched out on top of the massive bed, sighing in contentment as the mattress cradled her tired body perfectly.

_Who would've guessed that the mattresses in the Enchanted Forest would be so comfortable? _she thought, bemused. Although she'd intended to stay awake until Killian returned from his chat with Henry, that turned out to be Emma's last coherent thought. Sleep overtook her almost instantly, the last vestiges of the day's worries fading around the edges as she entered the world of dreams.


	5. I Would Know You Anywhere

**CHAPTER FIVE**: I Would Know You Anywhere (_Killian's POV_)

Henry led Killian to a small veranda just down the hall from the suite where they'd left Emma. He walked up to the edge, motioning for Killian to join him. Killian obliged, resting his elbows on the railing and gazing out over the Eastern Sea. They stood in companionable silence for several minutes, listening to the rhythmic roar of waves breaking over rocks in the distance. The cool night breeze carried the faint scent of brine. The familiar sounds and smells of the coast soothed Killian's frazzled nerves. Although he didn't regret sacrificing the Jolly Roger in order to get back to Emma, he couldn't deny that he missed the sea. He supposed it was only natural; after all, he'd spent the equivalent of several lifetimes on the open water.

Killian allowed himself another minute to enjoy the peaceful ebb and flow of the waves before facing Henry and leveling him with a pointed look. "Out with it, mate," he said wearily. "Lovely as it is, I know you didn't bring me here just to enjoy the view."

"Actually, I did bring you out here for the view," Henry replied. He pointed to the gardens below. By the light of the moon, Killian could just make out the lone figure sitting on a stone bench, staring at the sea. The wind lifted the strands of her long dark hair, sending it billowing out behind her. _Jocelyn_.

Killian sighed, feeling the strain of the day and his own exhaustion settle deep in his bones. "I won't tell Emma about her, if that's what's vexing you," he said.

"How do you even know about her?" Henry demanded harshly. "She told me she was positive you recognized her."

Killian winced and turned back to the sea, his expression brooding. No words existed to adequately explain how he'd known Jocelyn was his daughter. The recognition went far deeper than mere appearances, although her resemblance to both Emma and himself was certainly obvious enough. The knowledge had come to him from a source that was simultaneously simple and esoteric – a gut feeling, an instinct as old as time itself. The possibility of her existence was something he'd never dared to dream about, not even in his most indulgent of fantasies, but still, he'd known her. _She is my child_, he thought. _I would know her anywhere_.

"I knew who she was the moment I saw her face," Killian responded finally. He gripped the wrought iron railing, keeping a watchful eye on Jocelyn's solitary form far below. "Don't ask me to explain it, I just knew."

To his surprise, Henry's expression softened. He placed a sympathetic hand on Killian's shoulder. "It's all right, Killian, I _do_ understand," he said gently. "The connection between a parent and a child…it's an inexplicable thing." Something in Henry's tone made Killian wonder if he was speaking from personal experience. _Does Henry have children?_ he wondered. He was curious but there was no point in asking. Henry was unlikely to divulge something so important until he was sure they could return Killian and Emma to the past without their memories.

"I know there's only so much you can tell me, but please, is…Jocelyn…all right?" Killian asked. It was difficult to say the name out loud. "She hid it well, but she seemed very much upset by our arrival."

"Joss is my sister, and I love her, but I can't pretend to know what's going on inside that head of hers," Henry said, shaking his own head sadly. "Honestly, she's always been closer to Neal – my mother's younger brother – than to me." Killian raised an eyebrow at the young prince's name, finding it more than a little odd that Emma's parents had named their son after the man who'd landed their daughter in jail. However, the man in question was also Henry's father, and so he decided not to comment. Henry continued, "It's my fault, really. There's such a big age difference between us, and I wasn't always good about making time for her when she was growing up."

Killian nodded in understanding. "My brother Liam was ten years older than I. When I was small, he looked out for me and I idolized him, but it wasn't until we were both grown men serving in the Royal Navy that we became close," he recounted fondly.

The warmth in Henry's smile made Killian suspect he already knew all about Liam, but he said only, "Joss and I have definitely grown closer over the past couple of years. She's never been particularly free with her feelings, at least not with me, but she leaned on me quite a bit right after – " He trailed off abruptly, frowning, and Killian realized he'd been about to say something about his and Emma's fate.

Earlier Henry had told Emma that she and Killian were somewhere in the Enchanted Forest, which Killian assumed meant that they were still alive. Nevertheless, Jocelyn's melancholy, coupled with Henry's discomfiture and the fact that he'd said nothing about their welfare, seemed to imply that they'd been separated from the rest of their family. For the first time since meeting Jocelyn, Killian began to doubt his theory about why the time portal had deposited them in the future. This was not his idea of a happy ending. _Perhaps Emma and Henry are right_, he thought. _Maybe the dark magic brought us here after all. _Regardless of why they'd been transported there, and despite how much he wanted to get back to their own time, the idea of leaving this place without first trying to set things right disturbed him.

The weight of Henry's intense stare suddenly penetrated Killian's troubled thoughts. "I asked Joss to stay away from you and Mom until Regina and my grandfather arrive. I didn't think it was the best idea for her to interact with you until we know for sure if we can erase your memories before sending you back," he said. "If we can't, and Mom finds out who she is…I'm afraid it will affect her choices back in your own time."

Killian pressed his lips together. "Aye," he agreed. "Your mother is still in the process of figuring things out. Right before she reopened the portal, she told me she wanted to stay in Storybrooke and settle down with her family, but I honestly don't know where she sees me fitting into all of that." He closed his eyes and rubbed tiredly at his temple. "If anyone were to suggest we someday have a child together, I fear it would push her away from me."

"It very well might," Henry said seriously. "It's not a risk I'm willing to take. I can't imagine my life without Joss…or you, Killian."

Killian looked at him, surprised by his candor. Clearly he hadn't imagined the affection in Henry's embrace when he'd greeted him earlier that evening. A rush of warmth flooded him, and his thoughts turned to Emma. It appeared that in addition to blessing him with a daughter, she'd also given him a son. He scratched behind his ear awkwardly, unsure how to respond.

Recognizing Killian's self-consciousness, Henry hurried on. "Like I said, I asked Joss to stay away, but that was mostly for Mom's sake, and seeing as you already know about her, I don't think it will hurt anything if the two of you talk alone."

Killian could only gape at Henry, speechless. He leaned against the railing, staring down into the garden where Jocelyn still lingered. When he first saw her sitting there, looking so dejected and forlorn, he'd longed to talk to her, to comfort her, but he'd been willing to respect Henry's wishes and stay away from her until they got a handle on their situation. Tears sprang to his eyes, completely unbidden, and he had to turn away for a moment to regain his composure.

"You're a good man, Henry," he managed to say, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak.

"Yeah, well, I've had a lot of good role models," Henry replied easily. He put his arm around Killian's shoulders and guided him back inside the castle. "Come on, I'll show you how to get down to the gardens." A few minutes later Killian found himself outside under the stairs, only a few dozen paces away from his daughter. The air was cool and fresh, the sweet aroma of roses mingling with the tangy scent of the sea, which was much stronger in the gardens than it had been up on the veranda.

"Don't stay away too long tonight," Henry warned. "Mom might come looking for you."

"Aye." Killian nodded. "We'll see you in the morning." He gave Henry a quick one-armed hug, hoping that small gesture managed to convey at least some fraction of the gratitude he was feeling.

Henry disappeared through the door, leaving Killian to make his way through the maze of the gardens on his own. He hesitated as he drew closer to Jocelyn, suddenly unsure. She must've felt his presence, because after a moment she turned around. She froze, her emerald eyes – _Emma's eyes_, thought Killian with a pang – growing wide. When she finally spoke, her voice was as small and uncertain as a child's.

"Daddy?" she whispered. Killian could only nod, too choked up to speak. Jocelyn leapt up from the bench and stumbled towards him, throwing herself into his waiting arms. Killian didn't even try to check his tears, allowing them to flow freely into Jocelyn's shiny dark hair. He cupped the back of her head, cradling her against his chest, still struggling to believe she was real. She wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing him so tightly it hurt, not that he could find it in himself to care. They stood that way for a long time, until Killian's tears began to dry and Jocelyn's narrow chest no longer heaved with sobs.

"How did you know me?" Jocelyn asked, her face still buried in his shoulder, her words muffled against the leather of his coat. Killian took her gently by the shoulders, setting her back away from him so he could look at her face. He laid his palm against her cheek and she smiled a watery smile. _Emma's smile_, he thought.

"My darling, darling girl," he said, his voice thick with emotion. He voiced aloud the thought he'd had when Henry had asked him the same question out on the veranda. "I would know you anywhere."


	6. Fathers and Daughters

**CHAPTER SIX**: Fathers and Daughters _(Jocelyn's POV_)

His last words – _I would know you anywhere_ – still echoing in her mind, Jocelyn reluctantly disentangled herself from Killian's embrace and returned to her seat on the stone bench. He sat down in the opposite corner, stretching his hook arm across the back of the bench. Jocelyn leaned forward, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on top of her knees. It was strange being with this past version of her father. He was younger now than he had been even in her earliest memories, and yet in all the most important ways he was the same. When he looked at her, his eyes still shone with the intense pride and love that had sustained her throughout her childhood. Sitting with him now, Jocelyn felt a sense of comfort and peace she'd rarely experienced in the years following her parents' disappearance.

"I'm glad you sought me out," she said, breaking the silence. "Henry asked me to lay low until Regina and Rumpelstiltskin arrive. I've been trying to abide by his wishes for once."

"Henry was actually the one who brought me out here," Killian disclosed. "Because I'd already guessed your true identity, he didn't think it would do any harm if you and I were to talk. He's a good man, your brother."

"Aye," Jocelyn agreed. "I think he'll be a great king someday, but don't tell him I said that. I can't let him know what I really think of him – as his sister, it's my job to keep him humble." She laughed briefly, shaking her head.

"You're the very image of your mother when you smile," Killian observed with a smile of his own. Jocelyn knew the remark was supposed to be a compliment, but she couldn't help grimacing at the mention of Emma. Her father had known her immediately, how could her mother have been so blind? Sensing her change in mood, Killian's smile faded abruptly.

"She didn't recognize me," Jocelyn said, her tone lifeless. "She looked at me and felt…nothing." Killian started to protest but Jocelyn cut him off. "Don't," she said, hugging her legs. "I know it's true."

Killian sighed deeply, running his hand through his hair in a gesture that Jocelyn knew well. "You underestimate her, love," he said gently. "She was very much affected by you. Up until recently, Emma's had a difficult and lonely life, and because of it she's very guarded and has trouble both with trusting other people and her own emotions. She stubbornly holds on to her illusions, sometimes to her own detriment." He laughed shortly, mirthlessly – a clipped sound that stabbed at Jocelyn's heart. "I'd do anything for her, follow her anywhere, give my own life to keep her safe, but she's rarely been much more than lukewarm to me." He shrugged. "Although it appears I do eventually win her heart, seeing as I have the living proof sitting right here in front of me." He smiled at her affectionately, and despite her determination to stay angry, Jocelyn found herself smiling back.

"Henry said the same thing about Mom," Jocelyn replied, the corners of her lips curving downward once again. "It's just hard for me to imagine her that way because in my lifetime she's always been so free with her feelings." She fell silent, her mind filled with memories of the mother she missed so much. Their lives hadn't always been easy – there seemed to be an endless supply of villains eager to challenge the Savior – but Emma never allowed any of that to affect their little family. She and Killian had built their lives on a foundation of love and laughter, and they'd made sure to cultivate the same jubilant spirit in their daughter.

Killian was watching her with a wistful expression, and Jocelyn knew he was imagining a future where Emma was open and loving. "You don't have to tell me any details, but I have to know…Emma and I, the three of us, have we been happy?" he asked, his feigned nonchalance not quite convincing enough to disguise the suppliant note in his voice.

Jocelyn didn't hesitate. "Yes," she assured him sincerely, holding his gaze. "Always."

"Then why does our presence here now trouble you so?" His gentle inquiry caught Jocelyn off guard. She knew Henry was reluctant to give Killian and Emma any information about their future because he feared altering the timeline, but she also knew his concerns were unfounded. Although brewing a forgetting potion was no small task, it was simple enough for an accomplished magician. With both Regina and Rumpelstiltskin en route to the castle, Jocelyn had no doubt they'd be able to send the past incarnations of her parents back to their own time minus their memories of the future. Selfishly, she'd purposely kept this knowledge to herself for fear that somehow her dark secret would be revealed.

Jocelyn studied the man sitting across from her, his face illuminated by the light from the full moon. All her life people had been telling her how much she resembled Emma, in appearance as well as in temperament. It was certainly true she shared many of her mother's personality traits, and unfortunately not the more endearing ones. She could be standoffish and completely bullheaded at times – this was undoubtedly why she'd butted heads with her mother so often in her teenage years. Looking at this younger version of father, Jocelyn found she could easily see glimpses of herself in him. She had his dark hair, obviously, but there were more subtle similarities between the two of them that she'd never really noticed before. The curve of her jaw, the shape of her mouth, her full lips – all of these features she'd inherited from him. Growing up, she'd even picked up some of his mannerisms, the most obvious ones being her overly expressive eyebrows and the way she tilted her head to the side when she was considering something. Then there were the things that were invisible to the eye, and it was these characteristics that linked her most inexorably to Killian. She may have had Emma's disposition, but Jocelyn's deepest nature was much more akin to her father's. She loved deeply and loyally, quite often with little regard for her own feelings. It was for that reason she decided to tell him the truth – the less painful parts of it, anyway.

"In our timeline, you and Mom have been missing for the past five years," Jocelyn said, watching Killian carefully. It was clear her revelation came as no surprise to him.

"I figured it was something like that," he said unhappily, a shadow crossing his face.

"We believe the two of you are being held captive by a dark sorceress," Jocelyn continued. "Morgana Pendragon."

"Morgana Pendragon?" repeated Killian. "As in the Morgana of Arthurian legend? The most dangerous dark sorceress in all the realms?"

Jocelyn nodded. "Morgana was the product of an illegitimate affair between Arthur's father, Uther, and the wife of one of his lords. Uther kept Morgana's parentage secret in order to avoid scandal, instead raising her as his ward." She paused as she struggled to recall the details of the story. "Uther was a cruel king who hated magic. When he discovered that Morgana possessed it, he banished her from the kingdom. After his death, Morgana challenged Arthur for the throne, desperate to seek revenge against the father who had never acknowledged her. The legend states that Morgana was killed in the final battle between good and evil; however, rumors of her survival have abounded for years."

"I'm familiar with the legend," Killian said. "But those events took place over a thousand years ago. How could Morgana have survived for so long?"

Jocelyn raised her eyebrows. "This coming from a man who spent three hundred years in Neverland plotting against the Dark One? You of all people should know that magic – particularly dark magic – can grant one immortality, and that revenge is a powerful motivator."

Killian looked chastened. "Forgive me, love," he said entreatingly. "You're right – I know only too well what hate and dark magic can accomplish, particularly when you put them together. Thankfully, your mother has given me a reason not to dwell any longer on either."

"Make no mistake," Jocelyn said seriously. "It is definitely Morgana who is holding the two of you prisoner, and she is extremely dangerous. Even the Dark One fears her."

He frowned. "Why did she capture us? What is it that she wants?"

"I – I don't know," Jocelyn stuttered. It wasn't exactly a lie – she truly didn't know why Morgana had taken Emma hostage. The dark sorceress had said she "collected" light magic, but Jocelyn could only guess at her motivations. Unfortunately, none of her theories were very pleasant. "Mom was taken first and you went after her…alone. Weeks passed and you never returned. Grandpa's search parties couldn't pick up your trail – it was like you vanished without a trace. We assumed you'd been captured, too."

Killian's expression grew darker, and Jocelyn was sure he was thinking the same thing she was – that there was really no evidence to suggest he'd survived his imprudent quest. "I'm sorry," he said softly, scooting across the bench so he could tuck her beneath his arm. "It must be difficult for you, having us here."

Jocelyn pressed herself into his side, feeling slightly guilty for allowing him to comfort her. She wondered if he'd be so kind to her if he knew the full truth. "Grandpa refused to give up searching for you and Mom, and over the years he's enlisted the help of all the neighboring kingdoms. He and Grandma actually just left for a diplomatic convention not long before you showed up here. Henry sent for them immediately, and I wouldn't be surprised if they're back here by tomorrow." She pulled away, retreating back to her corner of the bench. "It's taken five years, but Henry says they've finally managed to pinpoint Morgana's lair. They're planning an attack."

Killian seemed deeply troubled by this news. "That sounds exceptionally foolhardy," he stated flatly. "If the Dark One fears Morgana, she must be a truly formidable opponent."

"Aye," Jocelyn concurred. "That she is." An uneasy silence stretched between them.

"Why have you told me all of this?" Killian asked suddenly. "According to Henry, the less we know about our future, the better. He's not sure our memories can be erased, and anything we learn here can affect the choices we make after we get back home."

Jocelyn stared out towards the sea. She wasn't keen to admit she'd allowed Henry to exaggerate the danger associated with their knowledge of the future. "It won't be a problem," she said finally. "Regina or Rumple can easily concoct a forgetting potion."

"How can you be so sure?" Killian pressed.

Jocelyn tore her gaze away from the sea, her green eyes meeting her father's blue ones. "I have magic," she confessed. "I studied it most of my life, up until I was fifteen, which is when you and Mom disappeared. I sort of, um, lost interest after that." _That's a nice way of putting it_, she thought. The truth was the very thought of using her magic made her sick. How powerful could it really be if it had failed her when she needed it the most?

"A forgetting potion isn't exactly child's play," she continued. "But it should be no problem for an experienced magician." She looked sheepish. "I didn't correct Henry's assumption about the potion because I wasn't ready to face Mom. I was…upset…that she didn't recognize me. It was selfish of me, I know." Of course it was more complicated than that, but Jocelyn rationalized that withholding information wasn't the same as outright lying.

"You don't have to apologize, love," said Killian, the tenderness is his tone making her feel even worse. "There's been no harm done."

_You have no idea_, Jocelyn thought, ashamed. She found herself looking down at her feet again. "I guess it's no matter," she said, as lightly as she could manage. "Regina and Rumple will most likely be here before the end of the day tomorrow. You and Mom will be on your way home before you know it." She exhaled shakily. Killian reached out and gently grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Jocelyn." It was the first time he'd said her name, and she was surprised by how deeply it affected her. It had been so long since she'd heard her name spoken in his voice. It made her miss the father she remembered even more.

Still holding her chin, Killian leveled her with a solemn stare. "We are not leaving here until this matter with Morgana is resolved," he promised.

Jocelyn tried to ignore the spark of hope that ignited in her chest. "What about Mom?" she asked.

"Let me handle her," he said. "Believe me, once she learns the truth, there is no way she'll agree to leave this place. We need to set things right."

"It's too dangerous," Jocelyn protested, remembering Morgana's maniacal glee when she first caught sight of Emma. She could only imagine the sorceress' delight if presented with _two_ Saviors. Not to mention the fact that, if they failed to return Emma and Killian to the past, there was a very real chance Jocelyn herself would never exist. Then again, considering all the trouble she'd caused, that might not be such a bad thing.

"Allow us to be the judge of that," her father insisted. He let his hand drop to his lap and looked up at the sky, taking note of the position of the moon. "I could easily stay out here all night talking to you, love, but I really should get back to your mother. I've been gone quite some time, and if she hasn't already fallen asleep, she might come looking for me."

"Oh gods," Jocelyn said, rolling her eyes. "Henry would die if someone caught her wandering about the castle unescorted." They grinned at one another conspiratorially, both grateful for the unexpected moment of levity. They stood in unison and began walking towards the castle.

"Where are you staying?" she asked, pausing just outside the door.

Killian tilted his head skyward. "There," he said, pointing at the largest balcony. "That set of rooms, all the way up on the top floor. Henry said he thought we'd enjoy the view, but I think he was just enjoying watching us struggle up all those bloody stairs."

"Sometimes I wonder about my brother," Jocelyn said, shaking her head in disbelief. "All this talk about keeping the two of you in the dark and he goes and sets you up in your own apartment."

Killian's eyebrows shot up. "Do you mean to tell me that's _our_ apartment? Emma's and mine?"

"Yes," Jocelyn answered. "And mine, too, at least it was until a few years ago." She snorted. "I was actually just up there before I came down to the gardens. I fell asleep for a little while, but luckily I must've woken up before you and Henry dropped Mom off."

Killian was still staring up at the balcony, his expression a mixture of longing and incredulity. Jocelyn remembered that he'd had to give up the Jolly Roger – his home for over three centuries – when he'd returned to the Land Without Magic to look for Emma. Based on what she knew about her parents' history, in his timeline that had probably happened only a few weeks ago, so the loss was undoubtedly still fresh in his mind. No wonder the prospect of a home shared with Emma resonated so strongly with him.

"Dad," she said gently. He started at the title, but recovered quickly, a soft smile spreading across his face. Jocelyn touched his arm. "Goodnight."

Killian pulled her into an embrace. Jocelyn felt his lips press against the side of her head and she smiled into his shoulder. "Goodnight, love," he whispered before stepping back and opening the door. Jocelyn swallowed, remembering how he'd uttered those same words outside her bedroom door thousands of times over the years. _Oh Dad,_ she thought. _How I miss you._

Jocelyn started to follow him into the stairwell, but then changed her mind, letting the door close behind him. She walked around the perimeter of the castle until she reached another door, this one much larger than the one her father had just passed through. It led to the library. Jocelyn opened the door slowly, wincing as the rusty old hinges uttered an incredibly load groan and hoping she hadn't just awakened the entire castle. She waited several tense minutes, holding her breath, until it became apparent that no one was coming to investigate the source of the noise. She stepped through the door, suddenly finding herself shrouded in pitch blackness when it clicked shut behind her.

"Bloody hell," she cursed under her breath. How was she ever supposed to find anything in the dark? Drawing on the strength she'd gained from the encounter with her father, Jocelyn was struck by a sudden inspiration. Holding her breath, she extended her hand out in front of her face. Concentrating intensely, she thought of fire, and was absolutely delighted when a moment later a white flame sprang to life in the center of her palm. Grinning madly, she plucked a torch from the wall and lit it with her fireball before allowing the magical flame to go out. It was the first time she'd used her magic since the fateful day of her mother's kidnapping, and she had to admit it was invigorating.

Jocelyn walked over to the rolling staircase in the center of the room and began to push it towards the tallest shelf. She positioned the staircase where she wanted it and then climbed all the way to the top, proceeding to pull out relevant titles. Balancing the immense volumes carefully, she descended the stairs, then deposited her bounty on one of the many research tables scattered throughout the library. She used her torch to light the oil lamp on the table before settling into a chair and pulling the largest of the ancient tomes from the stack she'd created. The brown leather cover was adorned with the title _An Annotated History of Camelot: The Rise and Fall of King Arthur_, printed in elegant script. A cloud of dust wafted up into Jocelyn's face when she opened the book, making her cough. She thumbed through the pages gingerly, mindful of the fragile parchment.

Hours passed. Jocelyn didn't find anything noteworthy about Morgana in the first two books she skimmed, but halfway through the third one, entitled _Magic and the Arthurian Legends_, she stumbled across a passage that made her pulse quicken.

"_Upon her banishment from Camelot, the Dark Sorceress Morgana became obsessed with an ancient Druid prophecy foretelling the ascension of the Once and Future King through his alliance with the mortal incarnation of Emrys, immortal gatekeeper of the Portal of Doors. It was prophesized that the Once and Future King would travel between the sixteen realms using the Portal, spreading peace, hope, and prosperity, and forever banishing evil from the world. The Druid seers of Morgana's time believed the Once and Future King to be her younger half-brother, Arthur Pendragon, and Emrys to be his faithful servant, a peasant named Merlin. Morgana plotted to defeat Arthur and Merlin, thus assuming control of the Portal of Doors herself, granting her access to all the realms and the ability to wreak untold havoc throughout the world. Although she succeeded in murdering Arthur during the Last Great Battle for Camelot, she was also killed by Merlin's hand, stabbed through the heart with the mighty dragon-forged sword Excalibur._

"_The Great Battle marked the fall of Camelot, its existence literally wiped from the map in a suspicious turn highly suggestive of Dark Magick. Merlin, devastated by Arthur's death, was never seen again, but a few centuries later, Morgana resurfaced in the realm of the Enchanted Forest, whose Crystal Sea is believed to be located at the epicenter of the lost kingdom of Camelot. How exactly she escaped death is unclear, but her powers seem only to have grown with the passage of time. Morgana's quest to gain control of the Portal of Doors continues today as it has for over one thousand years. She travels the realms searching for Emrys – the only magical being powerful enough to stop her – among the world's practitioners of Light Magick." _

Jocelyn looked up from the book, her mind racing as Morgana's intentions suddenly became clear to her. The sorceress "collected" those who wielded light magic in the hopes of finding and destroying the mythical Emrys. As the Savior, Emma was one of the most powerful magical beings in the Enchanted Forest, and her reputation extended well beyond the boundaries of that realm. Despair flooded Jocelyn. If Morgana believed Emma was the mortal incarnation of Emrys, the chances of her – and Killian – still being alive seemed very slim. With a sinking heart, Jocelyn flipped through the pages of the book until she reached the chapter describing Emrys.

"_The sorcerer Emrys is rumored to be the Gatekeeper, the last of an immortal race of magical beings who controlled the mythical Portal of Doors, the only permanent gateway to the sixteen realms in the entire mortal plane. For thousands of years, mortals travelled seamlessly between the realms under the watchful eye of the Gatekeeper. However, as centuries passed some of the realms became corrupt, their rulers motivated by greed and the desire for power. They began plotting to invade the peaceful realms and plunder them for raw materials and treasure. In order to prevent this corruption from spreading, the Gatekeeper sealed off the entrance to the Portal of Doors, allowing limited access by a select few through the use of an enchanted Hat. The Hat was entrusted to the Gatekeeper's most faithful mortal servant, but it was eventually stolen by a dark sorcerer who used it to ambush the Gatekeeper, banishing him from the mortal plane and assuming control of the Hat. The Hat has changed hands many times over the centuries, and as of the time of this writing, its whereabouts are unknown. _

"_The Ancient Druids prophesized the return of Emrys during the reign of the Once and Future King. The prophecy foretells the rebirth of Emrys as a mortal under the rarest of circumstances – the product of True Love, borne to a product of True Love. True Love Magick is the most powerful of all Magicks, and a child born of these circumstances would possess unprecedented magical abilities. By forging an alliance with the Once and Future King, Emrys will help restore peace and prosperity to the realms, reopening the Portal of Doors and spreading a message of hope throughout the world."_

Jocelyn's heart was pounding so hard she could feel it thrumming against her rib cage. Morgana had been wrong – Emma didn't quite fit the description of Emrys. To Jocelyn's knowledge, her mother was only a first-generation product of True Love. Neither Snow's nor David's parents had shared that exceptionally rare connection. Jocelyn froze as the faint glimmer of an idea forming in the back of her mind began to take on a more substantial shape. It was wholly preposterous, as well as embarrassingly self-centered, but once the thought took hold she just couldn't seem to force it out of her head.

All her life Jocelyn had heard stories about her parents' love. The tale of the pirate and the princess – the Savior and Captain Hook – was well-known among the residents of the Enchanted Forest. Their love story was classic as well as hopelessly romantic, making it a favorite subject for the realm's many traveling bards who had probably told and retold it hundreds of times. Jocelyn's childhood girlfriends had literally swooned when they first learned that, against staggering odds, her handsome and dashing father had outrun a curse, traded away his home, and crossed realms just to get back to her mother. Jocelyn recalled the countless times over the years when her parents had saved one another, sacrificed for one another, and risked their very lives for one another. Theirs was a love that only seemed to grow stronger with time. Although their True Love "status" had never been proven – somehow, despite all their many brushes with danger, neither of them had ever been cursed – Jocelyn was positive they were the real deal, making her a bona fide "product of True Love, borne to a product of True Love."

_Could I really be Emrys?_ she wondered. She thought about the time she'd overheard the Blue Fairy and Tinkerbelle discussing her magic, and how they'd speculated it was more powerful even than the Savior's.

Jocelyn closed the book, sending up another cloud of dust. Outside, the first red-gold streaks of dawn were blooming on the horizon. She'd spent the entire night in the library. For the first time since she'd awakened from Morgana's sleeping curse, Jocelyn felt a flicker of hope. If her absurd theory was correct, there was a chance they could defeat Morgana. If her parents were still alive – _they have to be alive, _she told herself fiercely – then maybe, just maybe, she could bring them home. Jocelyn jumped up from her seat, striding determinedly towards the library's interior door. It was nearly morning – surely her parents would be up soon. She needed to find them, and when she did, she would tell her father everything she'd learned.


	7. Courage

**CHAPTER SEVEN**: Courage _(Emma's POV_)

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Emma woke screaming from her nightmare, bolting upright, her eyes casting about the unfamiliar room in terror as she tried to get her bearings. She heard a distant commotion and then suddenly Killian appeared in the doorway, barefoot and bare chested, wearing only his black leather trousers. He was by her side in an instant, climbing onto the bed and gathering her into his arms. Emma sagged against him, sobbing as her sleep-addled brain struggled to rid itself of the images her nightmare had conjured.

"Emma, love, you're all right," Killian murmured soothingly, holding her against his bare chest. "It was just a bad dream." Emma clung to him, one hand snaking around his middle while the other flattened over his heart, finding reassurance in the strong steady beat thumping into her palm. They stayed in that position for several minutes, until the memory of the nightmare faded and Emma stopped shaking, her tears subsiding and her galloping pulse finally slowing. She pulled back then, looking up at Killian shyly. Their gazes locked and held, and a shiver of awareness rippled through Emma as she took in his disheveled appearance.

Judging from his state of undress – not to mention the absence of his hook or even the brace that held it to his arm – Emma suspected she'd interrupted Killian in the bath. His hair was wild, sticking up all over his head as though he'd just been rubbing at it with a towel. A few damp tendrils clung to his forehead, making him look boyish, and Emma had to fight the sudden overwhelming urge to smooth them back with her fingertips. Her eyes travelled down his torso, drinking in the muscles of his chest, his defined abs, shamelessly following the trail of dark hair that disappeared into the waistband of his pants, which were – _dear LORD_ – only partially laced. She forced herself to look away from all that exposed skin, to focus instead on his face. That wasn't much better. Killian had obviously been watching her ogle him, and even in the shadowy moonlight Emma could see how his pupils had blown wide open with desire. The air between them grew unbelievably dense. Killian's lips parted as he drew in a shaky breath, and Emma's insubordinate eyes immediately zeroed in on his mouth. She was acutely aware of the fact that she was completely naked beneath her borrowed robe.

With superhuman effort, Emma averted her eyes and gently extricated herself from Killian's grasp. She sank back into the pillows and stared at the ceiling, willing herself to breathe normally. She heard Killian sigh regretfully, the sound lodging inside her own throat. A moment later he settled down next to her, his movements tentative, taking care not to touch her. Emma squeezed her eyes shut in shame. The time when she could convince herself she didn't want Killian had long since passed. There were times when she wanted him so much it was all she could do to stop herself from grabbing him and kissing him senseless before dragging him off to some dark corner where she could have her way with him. However, it wasn't the physical attraction between them that scared Emma. No, it was the way he looked at her with his heart in his eyes, bringing back memories of Neverland and "_until I met you_," of the town line and _"not a day will go by I won't think of you."_ Obviously he'd meant every word, because a year later he'd shown up on her doorstep, her name falling from his lips like a prayer, and before she even realized what was happening he had kissed her.

Despite her stubborn determination to live in denial, at the end of the day Emma Swan was no fool. She knew exactly why Killian kissed her in New York. He was in love with her, madly so. He had to be or else he never would've attempted to restore her memories with a curse-breaking True Love's Kiss. _That_ was what scared her. Not so much his feelings, but the possibility of herself reciprocating them, of allowing someone to have that kind of power over her again.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Killian asked her softly. When Emma stiffened, he added hastily, "Your dream, that is."

Emma propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him. He was lying on his back, his maimed arm tucked beneath his head, the other one resting lightly on his stomach. When he met her gaze, she saw no remaining traces of the intensity that had frightened her earlier. His expression was concerned, and careful. Emma's chest constricted. She knew he was holding back for her sake, being a gentleman and graciously ignoring the tension between them. It was sweet, really.

God, she hated herself for being such a coward.

"I was dreaming about my mother, about watching her die," she said. Killian frowned at the unsteadiness in her voice, obviously thinking she was still disturbed by the dream. Emma wished she had the nerve to tell him the real reason – that being this close to him without actually touching him was slowly driving her insane. Instead, she said, lamely, "It was so vivid, it was like I was reliving that moment."

"I thought it might be something like that," he said sympathetically. "It's not the kind of thing that's easy to forget." He lifted his hand as though he might reach out to her, but stopped abruptly halfway through the motion, his fingers clenching into a fist as he let his hand fall into the space between them. "But it all worked out in the end, thanks to you. You're a bloody hero, Swan."

"So are you," she replied, seriously. Emma couldn't stand it any longer. He was just too good to her, too patient and respectful and encouraging, even when she didn't deserve it – which was most of the time. She wanted to give him something back, to let him know that his actions, everything he'd done for her, hadn't gone unappreciated. Words had never been her strong suit, but for him she would try.

"I wanted to thank you, Killian," she began. He went still at the sound of his name and the tone of her voice. "Not just for…comforting me after my nightmare, but for everything you've done for me. I – I know you didn't fall into the portal the first time." His breath caught, his gaze darting between her eyes. Obviously he hadn't realized she knew his secret. "You let it take you. You followed me so I wouldn't have to be alone. Thank you for that."

He opened his mouth to respond, but Emma shushed him and barreled on. "I never properly thanked you for going back for me in the first place in New York. If you hadn't – "

He did cut her off then. "It was the right thing to do," he said solemnly.

Something in his face, in the hushed stillness of the air between them, prompted Emma to ask him the question that had been on the tip of her tongue for weeks. "How did you do it? How did you get to me?"

"Well, the curse was coming. I ditched my crew and took the Jolly Roger as far and as fast as I could to outrun it."

"You outran a curse?" Emma interjected, incredulous.

For the first time since he'd come into the room, Killian grinned. "I'm a hell of a captain," he stated, matter-of-fact. Emma chuckled, shaking her head at his bravado. "Once I was outside the curse's purview, I knew that the walls were down and transport between the worlds was possible again. All I needed was a magic bean."

"Those are not easy to come by," Emma said, still smiling.

"They are if you've got something of value to trade," Killian said, a bit too breezily. Emma narrowed her eyes. The offhand way he was telling this story made her suspicious, but she decided to go along with the game for now.

"And what was that?" she prompted playfully, arching an eyebrow.

"Why, the Jolly Roger, of course," he replied, deceptively cavalier.

Emma's jaw dropped, all thoughts of teasing flying right out of her head, her shock completely robbing her of words. She knew what the Jolly Roger meant to him – it had been his home for three hundred years, his last tangible link to both his brother and the woman he'd loved and lost so long ago. She remembered when he'd offered to take them to Neverland, the obvious pride in his voice when he'd declared, "My ship, she's a marvel." Tears welled up in Emma's eyes as she realized – _finally_ – the full extent of what he'd sacrificed to get back to her. She felt humbled and shamed at the same time. To think he could have loved her so much even then, despite the fact that the only encouragement he'd ever received from her was a kiss given up in a moment of passing weakness, and one single, tearful word: "_Good."_

"You traded your ship for me?" she asked, a note of wonder in her voice.

"Aye," said Killian simply, his smile fading as he abandoned all remaining pretense. Emma could only stare at him mutely. The vulnerability she saw in his eyes as he waited for her response absolutely wrecked her, her protective walls crumbling into a pile of rubble at her feet. Before she had a chance to think, she leaned over and captured his lips with hers.

The kiss started out gentle as Killian's initial surprise rapidly gave way to something far sweeter, his hand coming up to tangle in the hair at the back of her neck. Emma's lips parted, her tongue finding his, the contact eliciting a low groan from Killian that shot straight through to her core. She dragged her fingers through his hair as she'd longed to do earlier, holding him to her and kissing him until she'd nearly exhausted the oxygen supply in her lungs. Sensing her need for air, Killian pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers, his thumb finding the little cleft in her chin. Emma opened her eyes, her lips curving into a smile. Killian smiled back briefly, nudging her nose with his, and Emma's smile widened into a full-blown grin. She met his eyes, which had once again grown dark with passion. This time she didn't look away, and Killian shifted their positions so she was the one lying down. He hovered over her, his left arm supporting his weight while the fingers of his right hand caressed her jaw.

Still holding his gaze and willing herself to be brave, Emma moved to untie her robe. Killian's breath hitched. He covered her hands with his, stilling her motions. "Emma," he said, his voice low and rough. "Are you sure this is what you want? Because I'm not interested in a 'one-time thing,' not with you."

"Good," she whispered back. "Neither am I." His eyes searched hers for a moment and, recognizing her sincerity, he released her hands, placing his own on her hip. She drew his lips back down to hers and kissed him with abandon, hoping to convey everything she was feeling in that moment. Killian responded eagerly, the fire between them growing hotter and hotter until finally Emma had to pull away, overcome with the need to feel his skin against hers. Her hands dropped to the drawstring of her robe a second time. She started to cry out in frustration when Killian stopped her yet again, but her protest died in her throat when she saw the look on his face.

"Let me," he said, the husky promise in his voice causing heat to pool between Emma's thighs. His eyes never leaving hers, Killian pulled one end of the drawstring until the simple knot came undone. He leaned over to kiss her lightly, slipping his hand inside her robe and groaning into her mouth when his fingers were met with an expanse of bare skin. Emma shivered, a crisp breeze cooling her overheated flesh as Killian opened her robe, unwrapping her like she was the most precious gift he'd ever received. Goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill air prickled her skin. Killian broke off their kiss and leaned back, his eyes feasting on her, his expression that of a starving man suddenly faced with his first meal in an age. Emma watched him, her bosom rising and falling quickly with her shallow breathing, the movement drawing Killian's attention. He cupped her breast with his palm, brushing his thumb over the nipple, the sensitive flesh instantly gathering into a peak. A moment later his mouth replaced his fingers, and Emma's back arched up off the mattress, a keening sound escaping her lips. Surprised by the intensity of her own reaction – really, he'd barely touched her – she thought fleetingly that there was a distinct possibility she wouldn't survive this night. She ran her hands down the muscles of his back, wanting to commit the feel of him to memory, just in case this was all another dream.

Abandoning her breasts, Killian kissed his way up to the base of her neck, dipping his tongue into the shallow depression between her collarbones. Emma was only too aware of the path his hand was taking, moving with tantalizing slowness in the opposite direction from his mouth. She bit her lip, her nails digging into the back of his neck as she resisted the urge to grab his hand and force him to hurry things along. Feather light, he brushed his fingers over her hip, trailing them along the outside of her thigh and over her knee. He paused then, resting his hand on top of her thigh, his mouth still working at her throat, until Emma simply couldn't take it anymore. She'd never been one to beg, but she supposed that desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Killian," she breathed, her hips moving of their own volition. "Please…"

She felt him smile against her neck. He looked up at her, still wearing a self-satisfied smirk. He was beautiful in the moonlight, his hair even wilder now than before, thoroughly mussed from the onslaught of her fingers. Emma was fairly certain it was possible to drown in the depths of his eyes. Her mind raced to find adjectives to adequately describe him – gorgeous, handsome, sexy, perfect – before she finally settled on one: _Mine_.

"Please," she whispered again, and Killian's smirk disappeared. He ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, until finally –_ finally _– he reached her core. Emma gasped at the contact, one hand curling around his bicep while the other grasped a fistful of quilt. Killian kept his eyes trained on her face as he stroked her, gauging her reactions, quickly figuring out exactly what she liked, and in no time at all he had her hovering right on the edge of a climax. Then he was kissing her, his tongue sliding against hers in a sensual dance, his teeth lightly scraping her lower lip, and all of a sudden it was just too much. Emma cried out, reaching a peak, her head dropping back against the pillows. The moment seemed to stretch on forever as Killian brought her down slowly, his clever fingers drawing out her pleasure, leaving her shuddering and breathless. Eventually she came back to herself, her eyes fluttering open, her gaze focusing on Killian's face. His breathing was ragged, his kiss-swollen lips parted in anticipation.

"You're beautiful," he said reverently. Emma kissed him in reply, pushing him gently onto his back. She took her time exploring his neck and chest with her mouth, determined to discover every sensitive spot that made him groan. Teasingly, she slid her fingers inside the waistband of his pants, tracing her fingernails low across his belly, thoroughly enjoying the way his abdominal muscles jumped at her touch. Her mouth finding his again, she stroked the hard bulge straining against his pants. The sounds he made in the back of his throat fanned the flames of her own desire, quickly building it again. Emma sat up, holding Killian's gaze as she untied his laces and helped him out of his pants. She wanted to see him, all of him, and when he was finally revealed to her, she wasn't disappointed. _You're the one who's beautiful,_ she thought, looking him up and down before she pressed a kiss into the indentation at his hip. She moved to take his length into her mouth, her lips closing over his tip.

"Gods, Emma!" Killian cried out as she drew him in. His fingers bunched in her hair, not guiding her but simply holding on for dear life. Emma swirled her tongue, feeling him grow impossibly hard, and then suddenly he was pulling her up roughly. She stared down at him, taking in the devastated look on his face.

"You're wonderful, love," he gasped. "Bloody brilliant, but it – it's been awhile, and I want you so much. I fear I won't last long that way." He seemed ashamed by the admission, avoiding her eyes.

Emma smiled, laying her palm against his cheek, thumbing over the light scar there that had always intrigued her. He might be embarrassed, but the knowledge that she had so easily driven him so close to the precipice made her feel sexy and empowered. "It's okay," she said softly, reassuringly. "It's nice to be wanted."

That seemed to give Killian his swagger back. He took her in his arms, rolling them over so he had her pinned beneath him. "I've always wanted you," he confessed, punctuating his words with a lingering kiss. "Ever since the first time I saw you." He pulled her into a sitting position, dragging her over to the edge of the bed. Before Emma had time to comprehend what he was doing, he dropped to his knees in front of her and pushed her thighs apart, his tongue tasting her.

Emma moaned something completely incoherent, her body unable to process this much pleasure so soon after the heights he'd taken her to earlier. Killian was relentless, swiftly bringing her to the brink of another climax. Instead of sending her over the edge, he stopped, climbing back onto the bed with her. Desperate now, Emma yanked him on top of her and kissed him fiercely, tasting herself on his tongue. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling him there at her entrance, so close.

Killian broke their kiss, his eyes searching for hers as he pushed into her with one long, sure stroke. They both groaned, and Emma buried her face in the crook of his neck as he began to move slowly, experimentally. He slid his scarred arm beneath her waist, lifting her hips and changing the angle slightly, suddenly hitting her _just right_.

"God yes, right there!" Emma cried out, her words muffled against his throat. She gripped him with her legs, urging him to move faster.

"Emma, love, please," Killian pleaded, his good hand caressing her cheek as he ceased his thrusts. "Look at me."

Emma tensed, anxiety slamming into her. Of course he'd want to look her in the eyes as he made love to her. She couldn't kid herself about what they were doing – this was more than just sex and they both knew it. Summoning up every ounce of courage she possessed, Emma withdrew from her hiding place in his neck and forced herself to meet his eyes, willing herself not to shy away from whatever she might find there. He smiled at her slightly, encouragingly, his hips picking up a steady rhythm, unerringly finding _that spot_ inside her again and again. It was too much and not enough and everything all at once, and Emma felt herself slipping away. She squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth against the delicious tension coiling at her very center.

"Stay with me, love." Killian's gentle whisper managed to reach her even as she felt herself spiraling into blissful oblivion. Just before she came apart beneath him, Emma opened her eyes. Killian's face swam into view, his expression bordering on pain as he struggled to maintain his control. His fingers in her hair were excruciatingly tender, his expressive eyes telling her without words everything he felt for her but didn't dare say aloud. With anyone else, the intimacy would've been too much, but Emma found that with Killian, it was okay. When she came a moment later, it was with his name on her lips. Killian swallowed her soft cry, kissing her with building passion until his own climax took him. Waves of pleasure washed over them both, so intense they literally curled Emma's toes. Killian collapsed on top of her, utterly spent, his muscles shaking with exertion, and for several minutes the only sounds in the room were their labored breathing and the distant roar of the ocean.

Emma thought she might be happy to never move again, but eventually Killian rolled off of her, turning onto his side and tucking her against his chest. He sighed contentedly, his breath in her hair. It was very sweet, being held by him that way. A lump formed in Emma's throat, her emotions overwhelming her. Never in her life had she felt so…completed…by a lover. Very rarely had she stuck around long enough after sex to enjoy this quiet aftermath. She wasn't sure what to do. Absurdly, she found herself fighting the urge to jump up and run, her muscles going rigid.

"Is everything all right, love?" Killian asked, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. He sounded tentative, and Emma realized she was shaking.

"Yes, I'm – that was – " She stopped. Killian's arm tightened around her. Emma swallowed hard. "I'm just…bad at this," she finished.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into hers. "I don't know about that," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "I thought you were pretty damn good."

"Killian," she said seriously, fat tears spilling down her cheeks. "That's not what I meant."

"Hey," he said, shifting so he could look at her. "Emma. You don't have to be scared of this. We'll figure it out together, okay?" He pressed his forehead to hers, his thumb wiping at her tears.

"Okay," she replied, trusting in his confidence. Some of her panic started to dissipate. _You can do this_, she told herself firmly. She turned to face him, snuggling into his chest, slipping her arm over his waist. Killian put both of his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. Emma breathed in his scent and felt herself begin to relax, lulled by the steady tempo of his heartbeat.

She remembered a long ago conversation with her father, held on Storybrooke's beach the day after their return from Neverland. _You have to look for the moments_, he'd said. Despite the stress and emotional trauma she'd experienced over the past few days, Emma had to admit there'd been quite a few good moments interspersed amongst the bad ones. She also had to admit that this man lying next to her was responsible for most of them.

Maybe – just maybe – she'd finally found someone she could truly believe in.


	8. Red-Handed

**CHAPTER EIGHT**: Red-Handed _(Killian's POV_)

Killian woke with the dawn, his slumber interrupted by a raucous symphony of birdsong. He felt uncharacteristically languid, his consciousness lingering in the indeterminate space between dreams and wakefulness far longer than usual. When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself staring at an unfamiliar coffered ceiling, its borders defined by elaborate hand-carved crown molding. A warm gust of wind blew in through the open window, gently lifting the sheer white curtains and filling the room with the refreshing scent of the sea. Killian inhaled deeply. After spending the last several weeks sleeping in one of Granny's stuffy, climate-controlled guest rooms, he'd nearly forgotten how wonderful it was to wake up to an ocean breeze.

He felt movement next to him, followed by a soft exhalation of breath expelled onto the sensitive skin of his upper arm. A moment later a small hand crept along his bicep and across his chest, settling right over his heart. Killian turned his head to the side, a thrill rippling through him as he drank in the glorious sight of Emma Swan naked in his bed. She lay facing him, her eyes still closed, their long, thick lashes forming perfect twin crescents against the apples of her cheeks. Killian listened to the rhythm of her breathing, deep and even, and realized she must've reached for him in her sleep. The thought made his love for her rise up from deep within him, spreading light into even the darkest corners of his soul. He longed to touch her but hated to disturb her when she so clearly needed the rest. He contented himself with watching her instead, his eyes seeking out all the intimate places he'd so lovingly explored the night before. _Beautiful_, he thought, beholding her delicate facial features, the swell of her breasts and tempting curve of her hip, and finally her long, shapely legs.

Emma whimpered in her sleep, her hand twitching on his chest. The sound set Killian's nerve endings aflame, evoking vivid memories of the way she'd moaned and gasped and writhed beneath him as he mapped her body with his fingers and lips and tongue. It made him want her all over again – sensual and slow, hard and fast, and every way in between. During the long months of their separation, his desire for her had never plagued him the way his love for her had. But now that he'd finally had her, he knew he'd never be able to get enough of her. Emma Swan had taken to own him, and he was lost to her forever…just as the memory of the previous night would soon be lost to them both.

It was a testament to his weakness for her that Killian had so easily forgotten their predicament the second her lips had touched his, all thoughts of _portals_ and _time travel_ and _memory loss potions_ melting away in the scorching heat between them. But now, with the first weak rays of morning sun already chasing away the blissful oblivion of the night, he could no longer deny the truth. Preserving the trajectory of the timeline, and thereby ensuring Jocelyn's existence, necessitated forgetting _everything_ about their trip to the future. It pained Killian immensely to think about losing his memories of these precious stolen hours with Emma, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that the sacrifice would not be in vain. Their daughter's life was well worth it. He simply had to have faith that things would work out as they were supposed to, and that he and Emma would find their way back to one another in their own time.

Emma's hand suddenly moved from his chest to his face, startling Killian out of his thoughts, her fingers smoothing over the worry lines wrinkling his brow. He wondered how long she'd been watching him. "Hey beautiful," he whispered, his expression immediately softening as his eyes met hers.

"Hey yourself," she whispered back, drawing him in close and brushing her lips over his. Killian ran his hand down her side, splaying his fingers over the ladder of her ribs. She kissed him again, more deeply this time.

Almost instantly, Killian began to lose himself in her, his world contracting until it consisted of only the two of them and their growing passion for one another. He marveled at how quickly the latent spark between them could blaze into an inferno of raw need. Emma rocked her pelvis against his, stealing his breath, her leg snaking over his waist to draw him closer. Killian groaned aloud, breaking their kiss. Her eagerness had caught him off guard, but through the haze of lust he felt a stab of guilt, too sharp to ignore. He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching Emma's and finding only trust and – dare he even think it – growing love reflected in their jade depths. Shame filled him, and suddenly all he could think about were the things he was keeping from her – his theory about why the portal had brought them to this time, his knowledge of Jocelyn's identity, even his disastrous encounter with Ariel during their year apart. Would she still look at him that way if she knew all his secrets? Killian wasn't sure, but he did know he shouldn't make love to her again until he told her the truth.

"Hold on, love," he said tentatively. "I – there's something I need to tell you."

"Do we really need to talk right now?" Emma pouted. Her tone was positively sultry, and Killian felt his resolve weakening.

"Yes, we do – " His thought was cut short by her fingers curling expertly around his cock, her touch quickly eradicating all rational thought. Killian sucked in a shaky breath, silently cursing the parts of his anatomy intent on remaining blissfully unaware of the serious conversation his brain was trying to hold.

"Please," Emma said, her eyes never leaving his as her hand continued to work its magic. "I want you, Killian, and we don't have much time. It's almost morning."

Her frankness, coupled with the blatant longing in her steady gaze, broke Killian completely. He had no will to deny her, not when he'd spent so many months dreaming of this very thing. Giving in, he rolled onto his back and pulled Emma over on top of him. She leaned forward, immediately fusing her mouth to his, her long hair falling down around them like a silken curtain of gold. Killian reached between them, his fingers testing her readiness and finding her already impossibly wet. He deliberately kept his touches light, teasing her until she cried out, arching herself into his hand.

"You're perfect, do you know that?" Killian murmured, loving how responsive she was to him. He would never, ever tire of pleasuring her, not if he lived for another three hundred years. Emma smiled – a siren's smile – and pushed his hand away before slowly lowering herself over his shaft, her hips immediately picking up a rhythm that left them both breathless.

Killian clenched his teeth against the pressure rapidly building in his groin. The erotic vision of Emma riding him was proving to be too much, threatening to send him over the edge too soon. He sat up, chasing after her lips, wrapping his arms around her waist as he attempted to take control of the pace. Emma indulged him only briefly before throwing her head back with a strangled cry, too far gone to draw the moment out any longer. When she came, Killian shattered right along with her, pressing his face into her neck, struggling to remain coherent enough to keep from blurting out the three little words he knew she still wasn't ready to hear.

They lay together for a long while afterward, limbs intertwined, drifting on a sea of contentment, their passions sated and their bodies spent. Killian combed his fingers through the soft strands of Emma's hair, unsure whether the gesture was meant to soothe her or himself. He waited for her to panic as she had done the night before, but it seemed she had no intentions of running this morning. Instead she simply relaxed against him, pliant and trusting, her fingers inscribing lazy circles over his chest. As much as Killian wanted to enjoy this peaceful moment with her, the longer he lay there the guiltier he felt knowing that he'd earned her trust unfairly. He regretted not having been up front with her right from the very start. At the time he'd convinced himself he was acting in her best interests, but really he'd just been scared she'd pull away if she knew the truth. Apparently Zelena's curse had taught him nothing.

A loud knock on the outer door of the suite interrupted Killian's thoughts. Emma sat up, looking at him in alarm as Henry's voice reached them faintly, "Mom! Killian! It's Henry!"

"Oh my god!" Emma hissed, scrambling out of bed. Killian was right on her heels, joining her in a frantic search for the articles of clothing they'd carelessly cast off the night before.

"Mom?" Henry's voice was louder now. He'd apparently let himself into the suite when they failed to respond to his call. Killian could hear his halting footsteps echoing on the stone floor of the great room, tentatively growing closer.

"Just a minute, mate!" Killian yelled. Cursing under his breath, he snatched up his trousers and shoved his legs into them, struggling one-handed and wishing he hadn't left his hook in the bedroom down the hall. A door slammed behind him and he realized Emma had retreated into the adjoining bathroom. _Resourceful lass,_ he thought ruefully. _Wish I'd thought of that._

"Um, good morning."

Killian whipped his head around to find Henry leaning awkwardly against the threshold of the door, his arms crossed over his chest. Instinctively Killian hid his maimed arm behind his back. His right hand drifted up to his ear of its own volition, his fingers itching to indulge in his most telling nervous tic – one he was sure Henry knew well given their close relationship in this timeline. At the last second he regained control over the wayward appendage, diverting its course and running his fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to smooth the messy strands. He blushed furiously, knowing it was probably only too obvious to Henry what had just taken place in this room.

"I came to tell you the dining hall has been cleared, so you can come down for some breakfast if you're hungry," Henry said, his eyes darting around the room, searching for a safe focal point and finally settling on the floor in front of his own feet.

"Thank you," Killian said. "I'll, um, we'll be right out."

"I'll wait for you in the foyer," Henry mumbled, turning away and heading back down the hallway towards the suite's common rooms. Killian's breath left him in a rush. He sprinted for the bathroom door, flinging it open and stumbling inside. He shut the door behind him with unnecessary force and collapsed against it, the back of his head hitting the solid oak with a thud. Emma was sitting on the edge of the grandest bath tub Killian had ever seen, once again dressed in the white robe she'd worn to bed the night before. Her eyes met his, the corners of her lips twitching as she took in his scandalized expression. The ludicrousness of the situation struck Killian suddenly. He burst out laughing and Emma joined him, the sound echoing in the large room.

"I'm so embarrassed!" Emma wailed between fits of giggles, covering her face with her hands. "I feel like a teenage girl who's just been caught red-handed with a boy in her bedroom."

Killian crossed the room and yanked her to her feet, pressing his body flush up against hers. He raised an eyebrow, smirking down at her. "I can assure you, love," he growled, thoroughly enjoying the way her eyes widened as her hips made contact with his. "I am no boy."

"I noticed," Emma purred in reply, smirking right back at him. Without warning, she grabbed his ass with both hands, squeezing hard enough to hurt and drawing a very unmanly squeak from Killian's lips. With that, she slipped out of his embrace and headed over to one of the two large wardrobes in the room. "Let's just get dressed and be thankful for the fact that we'll most likely forget any of this ever happened."

Killian froze at her words, his blood running cold with sudden, heart-stopping doubt. Last night he'd been too consumed with the taste and feel of her to stop and consider the very real possibility that they wouldn't be able to keep their memories of this trip to the future. He'd assumed Emma had been as swept up in the moment as he himself had been, but her casual remark made him wonder. Had she slept with him carelessly, just to get him out of her system, knowing she wouldn't retain the memory once they returned to their own time? She'd assured him last night that wasn't the case, but Killian had learned long ago not to count on ardent promises made in the heat of the moment. Was he so blinded by his own feelings for Emma that he'd imagined the deeper connection between them, foolishly succumbing to the age-old folly of mistaking raw physical chemistry for True Love?

"What do you think," Emma was saying, oblivious to the turn his thoughts had taken. She turned to him, holding out a pair of dresses she'd pulled from the wardrobe. "Brown or green?" He stared at her, uncomprehending. "Killian?"

"Uh…green," Killian finally replied, not really looking at either dress. Emma frowned, noticing his distraction. "It matches your eyes," he added hastily, striving for a normal tone to mask his inner turmoil. "I left my things in the bathroom down the hall. I'll just…go get dressed in there." He began inching toward the door.

Emma pressed her lips together, but thankfully she made no protest. "Wait," she said, laying the dresses down and fetching a bundle of clothing from the sink. She tossed it to him and he caught it clumsily between his hand and his stump, inadvertently drawing her attention to his damaged appendage. Emma looked away immediately, and Killian quickly folded the pile of fabric over his left forearm to hide his scars. He'd felt so comfortable in her presence earlier he'd nearly forgotten that he wasn't wearing his hook or even his brace. Now, however, his doubt made him feel self-conscious.

"Sorry," Emma mumbled. She averted her eyes. "My clothes were dirty from travelling, and I thought yours might be, too."

"Thank you," Killian said sincerely, genuinely touched by her concern for his comfort.

"You're welcome," she replied, lifting her gaze. Her shy smile brightened Killian's spirits somewhat. He wanted nothing more than to believe she was truly letting him in and that she wasn't just taking advantage of the opportunity their imminent memory loss presented. "We better hurry," she continued, picking up the green dress again and away from him. "Henry's waiting."

"I'll meet you in the foyer," Killian responded before heading for the more modest bathroom down the hall. He breathed a sigh of relief when he entered the room and discovered that his brace and hook were still lying on the dressing table where he'd left them the night before. He'd been in the middle of washing up when he'd heard Emma screaming, and he'd literally dropped everything in his haste to get to her.

Killian retrieved the brace and fastened it to his arm with practiced ease before turning his attention to the bundle of clothing Emma had picked out for him. He unfolded the brown suede trousers and summer-weight white tunic carefully, smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric with his good hand. Not his usual black, but both items were expertly tailored and fit him perfectly. Killian was surprised – most of the time he had to modify the left sleeve of his shirts in order to accommodate his brace, but he had no such problem with this tunic. _Of course, _he thought, realization dawning as he recalled his conversation with Jocelyn in the gardens. _This is our future suite – these are probably my own clothes. _He tried to find comfort in the thought, reminding himself that no matter what trials they might have to face in the meantime, he and Emma would end up together in the end. Unless, of course, Emma was right and they'd been pulled into an alternate timeline by the magnetism of Morgana's dark magic, their destiny now diverging from that of their counterparts here in the future. If that was really the case, their own future was now anything but certain.

"Are you ready?"

Killian clicked his hook into place and turned towards the sound of Emma's voice. Despite his somber mood, he couldn't help but appreciate the way the simple green dress hugged her every curve. Regardless of how she felt about it, the clothing of this realm definitely suited her.

"Aye, let's get to it," he responded, fastening his scabbard to his belt with his good hand. He allowed Emma to lead the way to the foyer where Henry was waiting patiently.

"I had Granny make extra pancakes and sausage this morning," said Henry, opening the blue door and motioning for Emma and Killian to pass through. In true princely fashion, he'd recovered his composure following their awkward encounter, and he seemed determined to pretend as though he hadn't just interrupted their post-coital bliss. "She grilled me all through breakfast, wanting to know the identities of our guests." Henry sighed as the three of them filed down the hallway toward the stairwell. "I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep the two of you a secret. I've already had to threaten Grumpy to within an inch of his life."

"Grumpy? As in Leroy?" Emma asked. Henry nodded. "He knows we're here?"

"He was up in the tower when you arrived," Henry said. "Luckily he's not as quick on his feet as he used to be, and I was able to intercept him before he could spread the word too far."

"What of the woman we brought back with us?" Killian inquired. "Has she awakened? I've been concerned about her – she'd been unconscious for some time even before we arrived here. I fear your mother underestimates her own strength." Emma shot him a murderous look.

"This coming from the man who knocked his own self out cold just for looking at me wrong?" she challenged.

Killian glowered, remembering the passionate way Emma had kissed his past self in the cabin of the Jolly Roger. The memory did little to ease his fears regarding the motivation behind her sudden eagerness to pursue a physical relationship with him. "As I recall, he was doing more than just looking," he pointed out darkly. "It didn't seem like you were going to do anything to stop him, so I had to take matters into my own hands."

Emma's brow furrowed in consternation, but before she could reply, Henry cleared his throat loudly. "To answer your question, Killian, the woman is fine," he said. His tone indicated in no uncertain terms that he was not amused by their bickering. "No permanent damage. Blue is keeping her asleep for now until we figure out how to send you all back."

"See? She's perfectly fine," Emma said smugly, glaring at Killian. She turned to Henry. "You know, it might be better if we keep her asleep until we get home. If we wake her up here in the Enchanted Forest she might want to stay and try to find her family, but if we're going to preserve the timeline we really need her to come with us."

"I agree," Henry said. "We won't have to keep her out for long. I received birds back from both my mother – Regina – and Rumple first thing this morning. They should be here early this afternoon. With a little luck, we'll have the three of you back home within a few days."

"Thank god," said Emma, her relief evident. They'd reached the bottom of the stairwell. She paused, laying her hand on Henry's arm and smiling at him, all traces of indignation gone. "I can't wait to get back to my own time so I can watch you grow into the man I see right now."

"I want you to get back, too, Mom," Henry said earnestly, putting his arm around her. "I know things are confusing where you're coming from, but I promise you it gets better. You just have to have faith…we have a good life. I wouldn't want you to miss out on any of it."

Killian thought he detected a slight note of pain in the other man's voice and realized Henry fully intended to send them back to their own time without disclosing their fate here in the future. Henry would not risk his sister's life, not even for a chance to be reunited with his mother and stepfather here in this timeline. Killian frowned, remembering his promise to Jocelyn. He couldn't leave knowing that their family was in jeopardy, and he was positive Emma would feel the same way if she knew the truth. Earlier that morning, he'd been confident that telling her the truth was the right thing to do, but now he found himself paralyzed by doubt. What if Jocelyn was wrong and their memories couldn't be erased? What if their very presence here was already leading them down a different path than the one that had resulted in this particular future? The dire possibilities were numerous and mind-boggling. Anxiety gripped Killian's heart – one wrong move on his part, and their shot at a happy ending could slip away forever.

The hallway had gone silent. Killian suddenly noticed that Henry and Emma had continued on without him, walking with their heads close together, apparently deep in conversation. He hurried to catch up to them, but he made it only a few steps before a hand shot out from behind a pillar, grabbing his arm and forcibly tugging him through an open door.

"What the bloody hell?" he sputtered, whirling around to face his assailant. He raised his hook defensively, his hand automatically flying to his scabbard.

"'Morning, Dad," Jocelyn said, a huge grin spreading across her face, obviously pleased with herself for surprising him.

"Jocelyn!" Killian exclaimed, his joy in seeing his daughter immediately dissolving his worries. He hauled her into his arms, imparting a prayer to any gods who might be listening, thanking them once again for the miracle of her existence. Just being in her presence restored a large portion of his waning hopes.

"You're crushing me," she laughed, nevertheless hugging him back just as tightly.

"Sorry," he mumbled, gently setting her away from him. He studied her, noting the dark smudges beneath her beautiful green eyes and the fact that she was still wearing yesterday's clothes. "You look exhausted, love. Is everything all right?"

"Oh, it's more than all right," Jocelyn said excitedly. She began to pace the room, and Killian realized she'd dragged him into the castle's exceedingly large and well-stocked library. The room's outer walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, all of them filled to overflowing with books. Several additional rows of freestanding stacks extended from the walls toward the center of the room.

"I think I may have discovered the key to defeating Morgana," Jocelyn declared. "It's all linked to the prophecy, you see."

"What prophecy?" Killian asked. Jocelyn's pacing brought her to a small table piled high with ancient-looking books. She stopped abruptly and began sifting through the pile.

"After we parted last night, I came here to the library," she said, picking a particularly large volume and scowling at the title before setting it aside. "I discovered a prophecy predicting the return of the sorcerer Emrys, Morgana's mortal enemy." She went on in a low tone, almost as though she was talking to herself, "It's here in one of these books, one I'd never read before last night. Which is curious considering how much time I've spent researching Morgana's history…"

"Do you mean the prophecy foretelling the ascension of the Once and Future King?" Killian asked, watching her with growing concern. She seemed quite agitated. "About King Arthur and the wizard Merlin?"

"No – well, sort of," Jocelyn replied distractedly. She'd examined every book on the table and it appeared she hadn't found the one she was looking for. "That's the right prophecy, but I don't think it refers to King Arthur or Merlin. I think it refers to…someone born much later." She abandoned the pile of books and headed for the rolling staircase pushed up against the tallest of the stacks. Killian followed her to the base of the staircase, staring up at her as she made her way to the landing at the top.

"Damn it!" Jocelyn cursed as she scanned the shelves. "Where the hell could it have gone?" She ran back down the precariously steep stairs, taking most of them two at a time. Killian cut her off at the bottom and took a firm hold of her, his hand digging into her right shoulder while his hook circled the bicep of her other arm.

"Jocelyn, darling, please calm down," Killian pleaded, searching his daughter's face. She looked manic and feverish, a flush coloring her high cheekbones. "What in the world are you talking about?"

Jocelyn took a deep steadying breath, her eyes fluttering shut as she attempted to regain control of her emotions. "Did you make any progress with Mom last night?" she asked when she opened her eyes. "If what I read is true, I'm going to need her help to defeat Morgana. You have to tell her about me."

Killian was flustered. A few hours ago he'd been prepared to tell Emma the truth, certain she could handle it after what had transpired between them, but now his confidence was badly shaken. He didn't know if Emma had invited him into her bed because she was falling for him…or because she knew the whole encounter would be erased from their memories when they returned to Storybrooke. If it was the latter, chances were that telling her about Jocelyn would send her running. He hadn't forgotten the way she'd almost run from him the night before, clearly spooked by the intimacy between them. This morning it seemed she'd managed to overcome her fears, but her comment about forgetting any of this ever happened had stricken him with doubt. Maybe Henry was right after all and he should just hold off telling Emma the truth until they could consult Regina and the Dark One about the possibility of a forgetting potion.

"I'm sorry, love," he said finally. "I – the timing didn't seem right." He frowned. "And what do you mean that _you_ need Emma's help to defeat Morgana? Surely you're not planning on going after her yourself."

Jocelyn wriggled out of his grasp and took a step back. "It will all make sense once you hear the prophecy. Just – just do your part and tell her the truth," she said brusquely, her imperious expression so familiar it literally made Killian's heart ache. She was so much Emma, and he was beginning to find that he was equally as powerless to refuse her.

"All right," he promised, reaching for Jocelyn again and wrapping his arms around her. She resisted but only for a moment, her arms soon coming up to circle his waist. "I'll do it – I'll tell Emma the truth. Today."

"And what truth might that be?"

Killian released Jocelyn immediately at the sound of the angry voice. Emma was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed protectively over her midsection, her expression completely unreadable.


	9. The Truth

**CHAPTER NINE**: The Truth _(Jocelyn's POV_)

Jocelyn jumped at the sound of her mother's voice – as a teenager, she'd been the focus of Emma's ire more times than she cared to admit, and there was no mistaking the fury in her tone now. Her father let go of her instantly and started walking towards her mother, holding up his hand and hook in the same supplicating gesture he'd used when Jocelyn had threatened them with her bow in the forest. He stopped just short of touching her.

"Emma, I-I can explain – " he stammered haltingly. "I swear to you, it's not what you think."

"Don't pretend to know what I'm thinking, _Hook_," Emma snarled. Killian winced at her use of his moniker, and Jocelyn felt beleaguered on his behalf. "You've been acting strangely since the first moment you saw _her_." She jerked her head in Jocelyn's direction. "Who is she and what are you doing sneaking around with her?"

"For all that you like to bury your head in the sand, Swan, you're still a smart lass," said Killian tiredly, his tone suggesting he was growing weary of her tendency towards presumption. "If you stopped making assumptions for one second and really took the time to consider the first part of that question, I believe you'd figure it out for yourself straight away."

"How the hell should I know who she is?" Emma raged, flinging her hands up in the air as she shoved past Killian and stalked across the room. "Nobody around here – not Henry, and certainly not you – will tell me a god damned thing!"

"I _tried_ to tell you this morning," Killian replied through gritted teeth, his eyebrows shooting skyward. "But if I recall correctly, you were too intent on seducing me to listen." He seemed to have forgotten Jocelyn was even in the room, having eyes only for the wrathful blonde who refused to meet his gaze.

_Seducing him? _Jocelyn thought, her eyes widening in surprise. Just last night Killian had told her in their timeline Emma's feelings toward him were still "rarely much more than lukewarm." From what she recalled of her parents' love story, Jocelyn knew that, prior to their trip to the past, they had exchanged only heated glances and a single stolen kiss. Their time-travelling adventure had been the tipping point in their relationship, the catalyst which finally opened Emma's heart to the pirate-turned-hero who'd spent months patiently waiting for her to come around. It appeared fate was determined to bring the two of them together now, regardless of where they found themselves in space and time.

Emma stopped her pacing and whirled about angrily, red-faced and sputtering as she struggled to formulate a response. Killian eyed her warily before continuing in an aggrieved tone, "Speaking of our dalliance, I'm still a bit unclear as to whether you made that decision before or after you remembered we will most likely be returning home _without_ our memories of this place."

Emma's baleful expression faltered momentarily, hurt flashing in her eyes. She and Killian glared at one another silently, mistrustfully. Jocelyn stared back and forth between these younger versions of her beloved parents, regarding them with a sort of fascinated horror, her heart hurting for them both. It wasn't that she'd never witnessed her parents arguing or raising their voices at one another. On the contrary, their disagreements mirrored their love, intense and all-consuming, and tended to result in yelling and numerous hapless objects falling victim to an angry swipe of Killian's hook or an outburst of Emma's magic. But never in the fifteen years Jocelyn had with them had she ever known them to fight about their _relationship_, and never even once had they questioned one another's love or trustworthiness. It was eye-opening and painful to see them act this way, and Jocelyn was again reminded that these people simply were _not_ the parents she loved and remembered – not yet, anyway.

"Don't make this about me," Emma said quietly, dangerously, finally breaking the heavy silence. "You're the one keeping secrets…as usual. Now just tell me what the _hell_ is going on, or last night might end up being a one-time thing after all." Despite the vehemence in her words, Emma's voice wavered, and Killian looked as though he'd been punched in the gut. Something inside Jocelyn snapped.

"Stop it, both of you!" she shouted, stepping between them. Emma and Killian both started – all throughout their argument they'd had eyes only for each other. Jocelyn might as well have been invisible. _Not anymore_, she thought, marching purposefully towards Emma, her anger growing with each step as the hurt she'd felt over her mother's lack of recognition returned with a vengeance.

"You want to know the truth?" she roared, stabbing her finger into Emma's shoulder. Emma's mouth fell open, but astonishment kept her mute and rooted in place.

"I'M YOUR DAUGHTER!" Jocelyn yelled, her voice breaking on the last syllable. "I've been waiting for you to recognize me since I brought you here, but you've just been too blind and…_stubborn_ to see it!" Tears streamed unchecked down Jocelyn's cheeks, all of the emotions she'd been holding back since their arrival finally bursting forth. "You want to know what's really going on here, the reason no one will tell you anything about this future? It's because you're _gone_ - you've been missing for the past five years, and the real secret is that _it's all my fault._"

Emma staggered backwards, her knees hitting the seat of an armchair behind her. She fell onto it, clutching at her chest as though she was having a heart attack. Jocelyn stared at her, unable to check her tears, waiting for her mother to say something, _anything_, but Emma simply stared back at her through unseeing eyes. Choking on a sob, Jocelyn spun around and sprinted for the door. Her father caught her just as she reached the threshold, clasping his fingers around her wrist with an iron grip.

"Jocelyn, wait," he said hoarsely. She tried to shake him off, but he refused to let go. Her magic rose to the surface, sparking along her skin, delivering a mighty shock to Killian's hand. He yelped and snatched it back, cradling it against his body protectively. He stared at her, his blue eyes reflecting pain and disbelief. Jocelyn was overcome with remorse, horrified she'd just used her magic to hurt her own father, the person she loved most in this world.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, backing into the hallway. "Just…leave me alone." When she turned to go this time, Killian made no move to follow her.

Jocelyn tore through the castle at top speed, pushing her body to its limits, grateful for the way her lungs ached and her muscles burned. The physical pain was a welcome distraction from the emotional pain threatening to bring her to her knees. She headed for her quarters in the castle's western wing, ignoring the shouts from the servants and guards as she blew past them in the corridors. When she finally reached her suite, Jocelyn collapsed onto the hand knit rug decorating the floor of her foyer, her chest heaving as she struggled to regain control of her breathing. Her pulse pounded in her ears and the edges of her vision turned black. She felt like she might pass out.

"Jocelyn? Is that you?" The sound of a concerned male voice accompanied by hurried footsteps tethered Jocelyn's consciousness to the waking world. "Oh my gods!" Jocelyn looked up, her poor laboring heart kicking into overdrive once again as Roland Locksley's face swam into view. He knelt down in front of her.

"Are you all right?" he asked tenderly. Jocelyn nodded, still too breathless to speak, her hands creeping up his shoulders. Roland cupped her cheek with his right hand, his thumb tracing the tear stains on her face. Before she could protest, he gathered her into his arms, lifting her easily and carrying her into the living room. Normally Jocelyn would've objected to being carried around like a child, but right now she was too exhausted to care. Roland gently deposited her on the sofa and dropped one knee to the floor, bringing his gaze level with hers.

"Where have you been, darling?" he asked, his long-lashed dark eyes searching her face. "I've been here all night, waiting for you."

"Hold on," Jocelyn panted. "Trying…to catch…my breath."

"Take your time," Roland said, his worried tone at odds with his declaration of patience. Jocelyn reached for his hands, pulling them onto her knees as she laced their fingers together. He smiled slightly, dimples flashing, and Jocelyn felt the familiar flutter in her chest she always felt when she looked at him. He was so handsome, but yet he wore it so lightly, ostensibly unaware of the profound effect his appearance had on the female population of the realm. It sometimes seemed to Jocelyn as though she'd _always_ had a crush on Roland Locksley, ever since they were both children. His father, Robin, was married to Henry's adopted mother, Regina, and as a consequence Roland had spent a lot of time with Jocelyn's family over the years. Although Roland was four years older than Neal, the two of them were great friends, and they'd often allowed Jocelyn to tag along on their boyhood adventures.

Roland had moved to the castle permanently when he turned eighteen, enlisting in the Royal Army and quickly earning the coveted title of Elite Knight. When Jocelyn's parents disappeared four years later, he'd immediately offered to lead one of the investigating parties. He spent the next five years on the road, endlessly following Morgana's trail and seeking out the location of her lair, before he was badly wounded in a battle against the dark sorceress' terrifying army of ghouls. Many of Roland's men had been slain, but a brave group of survivors rushed him back to the castle for emergency treatment, arriving just in time to save his life. When he'd woken up from a fairy-induced coma two weeks later, Jocelyn's face was the first thing Roland saw. For most of their lives, Roland had treated her the same way Neal did – as a much loved, albeit sometimes annoying, baby sister – and he'd been shocked to discover that during his long absence Jocelyn had grown from a gangly teenager into a startlingly beautiful young woman. As Roland slowly recovered from his wounds, romance blossomed between the two of them. They'd kept their relationship a secret, unsure of how Jocelyn's overprotective family would feel about her being involved with a man who was seven years her senior. Neal, always a loyal friend to them both, was the only person they'd confided in.

Jocelyn realized she'd been silently staring at Roland far longer than was socially acceptable – even between lovers. She forced herself to look away, color rising in her cheeks. He chuckled and drew her towards him, using their joined hands for leverage. Jocelyn's eyes drifted shut and she couldn't help sighing as Roland's lips touched hers. He wasn't the first man she'd been with, but he was the first to make her feel _this_ way, setting butterflies winging away in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure if she was in love with him or simply a slave to the chemistry between them, but either way he could make her forget all of her worries and fears with even the slightest touch.

_Her worries and fears_…Jocelyn's eyes snapped open and she pulled away from Roland abruptly, suddenly remembering that the past versions of her parents hadn't been alone when they arrived in this time. The woman they'd brought with them was Roland's mother, Marian. Although Marian had cheated death twice - first when the Dark One magically cured her of a fatal illness, and once again when Emma rescued her from Regina's dungeons – she would not be so lucky a third time. Two years after her arrival in Storybrooke, Marian once again developed symptoms of the same rare illness that had afflicted her in the Enchanted Forest. There were no effective treatments in the Land Without Magic. Only a magical cure could combat the effects of the disease; however, the special ingredients required for the cure were only found in the Enchanted Forest. Marian succumbed to the illness not long after her symptoms reappeared, slipping away one autumn afternoon while her young son and ex-husband stood by helplessly. Jocelyn knew the loss of his mother at such a young age had affected Roland deeply, and she wasn't sure how he would react when he found out she was here now.

"There's something I need to tell you," Jocelyn said carefully. Roland frowned at her tone. "Something…incredible…has happened. My parents are here…from the past. Specifically, they've come from twenty-three years ago, brought here by Zelena's time portal."

"Twenty-three years ago," he repeated slowly. Jocelyn watched as realization dawned on Roland's face, and he suddenly appeared more vulnerable than she had ever seen him. "Joss, is my mother with them?"

Jocelyn swallowed hard. "Yes," she whispered, reluctantly. "But she was unconscious when they arrived here. I had the guards take her to the Blue Fairy."

She knew what was Roland was thinking – if Marian stayed here in the Enchanted Forest of their time, there was a chance they could cure her illness and save her life. Jocelyn also knew if she stayed, their own past could be altered in ways they couldn't begin to understand. Although it was hard for Jocelyn to imagine a worse fate than losing her parents at the age of fifteen, she knew there were even more terrible alternatives – not the least of which being she might never even be born. The prophecy had renewed her hope that her family would eventually be reunited in this timeline, but preserving it meant Marian had to go back with Emma and Killian. It would mean sending her to her death, but there was no getting around it. Jocelyn wasn't sure how to convey any of this to Roland without sounding selfish, as though she was only too eager to trade his mother's life for her parents' lives – and possibly her own.

"She could stay here," Roland said dreamily, an almost childlike expression of hope dancing across his handsome features. "Instead of returning to Storybrooke, my mother could stay here – and live."

"Roland, if your mother stays here, it could change our past – their future – however you want to look at it," Jocelyn replied, as gently as she could, pausing as she struggled for words to explain the ineffability of a temporal paradox. "If we want to preserve the timeline, things must happen the way they always did. If anything changes, it could set off a chain of events that might lead to an entirely different future."

"My mother will never accept her own death sentence," Roland challenged, his voice rising. "My mother loved life, and she loved her family. Even if she learns things don't work out between her and my father, she'll still chose to stay with me."

"But she _has_ to go back," said Jocelyn firmly. "They all do. I know it's hard, but we have no idea what the repercussions might be if your mother stays here."

Roland glowered at her. "That's easy enough for you to say," he retorted. "If your parents go back, you know you'll still get fifteen years with them. If my mother goes back, I only get _two_." He stood up and began heading towards the door. Jocelyn scrambled to her feet, ignoring the cramping in her quadriceps as the abused muscles protested the hasty maneuver.

"Where are you going?" she demanded, limping after him.

"To see my mother," Roland said, not bothering to turn around.

"Roland, please wait – " He did turn around then, and Jocelyn shied away from the ferocious look on his face. He stepped towards her aggressively, backing her into the wall.

"_Don't follow me_," he growled. He crowded her small frame with his much larger one, his face inches from hers. Jocelyn gasped involuntarily. She didn't actually believe Roland would hurt her, but she'd never seen him so angry before. The emotion was terrifying when displayed by someone with his powerful stature. Her magic threatened to burst forth as it had earlier when she'd shocked Killian. Jocelyn clenched her teeth and somehow managed to tamp it down.

"I won't," she said meekly. The quaver in her voice seemed to diminish Roland's rage. His shoulders slumped and he took a step back.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you," he apologized stiffly. "I'm going to go see my mother, and then I…I need some time to think." He turned away, heading in the direction of the Blue Fairy's quarters.

Jocelyn watched his retreating back until he disappeared around a corner before slowly making her way back to her suite. Once inside, she collapsed on the sofa, her head in her hands. Not counting the brief nap she'd taken in her parents' apartment the night before, she'd been awake for over twenty-four hours and she was utterly exhausted, emotionally as well as physically. Jocelyn knew it was only a matter of time before someone came looking for her. Henry would surely be furious with her for going against his wishes, and her father was probably wondering what she'd meant when she'd blurted out that Emma's disappearance was all her fault. Add to that the debacle with Roland, and there was no doubt she'd made a mess of things. Eventually she'd have to deal with all of them, but right now she just wanted to sleep for at least a million years. She stretched out on the sofa with a groan, too tired to try and make it the few dozen paces to her bedroom. Despite the chaos in her mind, Jocelyn dozed off into a fitful sleep after only a few minutes, her dreams tormented by evil sorceresses and prophecies and the threat of uncertain futures. She tossed and turned on the sofa, mumbling in her sleep.

Eventually the nightmares woke her. Jocelyn cried out, and in a haze of half-awareness, she felt a hand smooth the hair off her sweaty forehead, the gesture both comforting and familiar. Vaguely she heard a voice hushing her in soothing tones. She hadn't felt that gentle touch or heard that soft voice in years – surely she was still dreaming. Jocelyn opened her eyes, her heart stuttering when she found herself staring into a pair of green orbs identical to her own.

"Mom?" she whispered.

The corner of Emma's mouth twitched at the title, but she didn't move her hand away. "Yes," she said. "It's me. I wanted to talk to you."


	10. Secrets and Lies

**CHAPTER TEN**: Secrets and Lies _(Emma's POV_)

From her vantage point of the overstuffed armchair onto which she'd fallen, Emma watched as the near-stranger claiming to be her daughter blasted Killian with magic before fleeing the library. Killian did not attempt to detain the girl a second time, although he remained in the doorway until the sound of her running footsteps faded away completely. Finally he turned around, lifting his stricken gaze to meet Emma's, his injured hand still tucked beneath his arm. He pressed his lips into a thin line, the muscles in his jaw working worriedly as he waited for her to speak.

Emma studied him uneasily, feeling unnerved by a curiously strong sense of déjà vu. Killian's anguished look…it was identical to the one Jocelyn had worn only minutes before. All the blood drained from Emma's face as a sudden insight robbed her of breath – Jocelyn was not just her daughter, she was _their_ daughter, hers and Killian's. Furthermore, Killian must've recognized the girl's relationship to them the very first time he laid eyes on her. It explained everything about his strange behavior since their arrival here in the future. Emma realized that _this, _the existence of their daughter, was what Killian had been trying to tell her earlier that morning before – as he had so crudely put it – she seduced him. Emma clutched the plush arms of the chair with all her strength, holding on until her fingers cramped painfully, hot tears stinging her eyes. A million words swam through her overloaded brain, but she found she was only able to utter two.

"You knew," she croaked accusingly, some unidentified emotion nearly choking her. She frowned and struggled for more words, recognizing that she'd been exceedingly vague, but she couldn't seem to force another syllable past her lips. As it turned out, it didn't matter – Killian understood exactly what she meant without any further explanation on her part.

"Yes," he replied, his tone contrite. "I knew Jocelyn was our daughter the moment I saw her." His voice cracked on the word "our."

Emma glared at him, her tearful shock slowly giving way to a simmering anger. After everything they'd been through over the past few days, she thought they were done with the secrets and the lies. She started to ask why he hadn't told her about Jocelyn right away, but the question died on her lips when she realized she already knew the answer. Killian hadn't told her because he feared how she would react when faced with irrefutable evidence that one day she would indeed let him into her heart. She had to admit he would've been right to worry. Not even twenty-four hours ago a bombshell this explosive would've been enough to send Emma running for the nearest exit, but that was…_before_. Before she knew Killian had given up his ship – his home – to come back for her. Before she kissed him. Before he made love to her with a soul-crushing abandon that completely overshadowed every single one of her previous sexual experiences. Today, however, Emma could finally say with conviction that the thought of a future with Killian no longer terrified her.

Her new perspective made it slightly easier to think rationally about his latest transgression, so instead of raging at him as she might have done in the past, Emma simply said, "You should've told me." Despite her desire to keep a level head, her words came out sounding clipped and dangerous.

"I tried to tell you this morning – "

"You should've told me _immediately_," Emma clarified, cutting him off. She couldn't stomach his justifications or apologies in that moment, not while her daughter was crying her eyes out somewhere because her own mother had failed to recognize her. The fact that she had no prior knowledge of her daughter's existence wasn't much of an excuse – after all, Killian had recognized her. Emma knew it had been her own stubbornness that blinded her, and she was anxious to find Jocelyn and set things right. The inevitable confrontation with Killian would have to wait.

"I can't talk about this right now," she said brusquely, rising from her chair and heading for the door. She breezed past Killian, turning her back on him as she stepped into the hallway.

"Wait, where are you going?" he called out, the sharp note of panic in his voice stopping Emma in her tracks. She turned around to find he'd taken a single step towards her, reaching for her with his hook, his right hand still pressed between his bicep and his rib cage. Emma could tell by his broken expression that he thought his fears were coming to fruition and she was indeed running away from him rather than deal with her feelings. Hurt and angry though she was, she knew she couldn't leave him that way.

"Come here," she said softly, beckoning him to her, the hard edge in her voice softening slightly in the face of his uncertainty. He hesitated at first but then obliged, approaching her with cautious strides. Emma placed her hands on his right forearm as soon as he was within reach, gently pulling it away from his body in order to examine his injured hand. The sensitive skin of his palm and fingers blazed a livid shade of red where they had been singed by Jocelyn's magic. Concentrating hard as she summoned her own magic, Emma lifted Killian's hand towards her lips. She placed a gentle kiss in the center of his palm, her lips tingling as soothing, healing magic flowed out of her body and into his. Killian held his breath, his eyes widening as his hand was illuminated from the inside out, glowing with the white light of Emma's magic. After a few seconds, the glow faded, leaving behind only healthy, unblemished skin. Emma exhaled forcefully, a small, self-satisfied smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her magic seemed to be coming to her much more easily now. She looked up at Killian and discovered he was staring at her as though she hung not only the sun, but the moon and the stars as well.

"I meant what I said in Rumple's vault," Emma said seriously, holding his gaze as she stroked her thumb over the baby soft new skin now covering his palm. "I'm done running. That's not what this is." Remorse crept into her tone, and she let go of his hand. "I need to find Jocelyn and make her understand. I can't have her thinking I was purposely rejecting her. I know only too well what that feels like."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, love. You didn't know who she was. She might have lashed out at you earlier, but deep down, Jocelyn understands," Killian reassured her. "It would mean the world to her if you went to talk to her."

His soft smile and the conviction in his words made Emma realize that this morning couldn't have been the first time he interacted with their daughter. _Of course_, she thought. _Henry_. Last night when her son had insisted on speaking with Killian alone, he must have taken him to Jocelyn. Apparently Killian wasn't the only one keeping secrets. Anger flared in Emma's chest once again, this time directed at both Killian and her son. What right did the two of them have to decide whether or not she should be told about her own daughter?

"I'll catch up with you later," Emma said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Killian deflated, sensing the return of her anger. She motioned to the intersection at the end of the long hallway. "Which way did she go?"

"To the left," he replied. Emma started down the hall, but Killian shouted after her, "Wait a minute, love! This castle is huge, how will you find her?"

Exasperated, she stopped, tilting her head skyward as she rolled her eyes. "There's also a ton of people here," she called back without turning around. "I'm sure somebody must've seen where she went."

"But Henry said – "

Emma whirled about furiously. "I could care less what Henry said," she snapped. "I decided to stop following his 'orders' right after I realized he was in on your little secret." Killian looked confused, so she added, "Last night when the two of you went off together…he took you to see Jocelyn, didn't he?"

"Aye," Killian admitted reluctantly. "It was never our intention – "

"Save it," Emma interjected. "I'll deal with both of you later." To her relief, he allowed her to go without another word, although his grim expression told her he wasn't very happy about it.

After obtaining directions from several very bewildered guards and one astonished maid, all of whom had seen Jocelyn sprinting through the halls, Emma found herself standing outside her daughter's apartment a short while later. She tried not to dwell on the fact that the guards and the maid had stared at her as though they were seeing a ghost, instead focusing on summoning up enough courage to knock on the plain oak door in front of her. Jocelyn's apartment was located in the castle's western wing where the rooms and corridors were much smaller, darker, and far less grand than those Emma had seen previously. Before her nerves could get the best of her, she raised her hand to knock on the door. It gave way beneath her knuckles, and she realized it was already slightly ajar. Concerned, she pushed the heavy door open the rest of the way and peered inside.

All of the shades in the apartment were drawn, and it took several seconds for Emma's eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, she noticed that the rooms were laid out very similarly to those in the suite where she and Killian were staying, only on a more diminutive scale. Two sofas and a loveseat were arranged in a U-shape across from the fireplace, and Emma could just make out Jocelyn's slight form huddled on the sofa facing the foyer. Her back was towards Emma, her face buried in a pillow, and she appeared to be asleep. Emma tiptoed across the room, her senses on high alert, warily approaching the sleeping young woman as though she were a skittish horse or a cornered wild animal. She froze when Jocelyn muttered something unintelligible, thrashing about in her sleep, evidently in the throes of a nightmare. Her tossing and turning eventually landed her on her back, giving Emma a clear view of her face.

Curiosity got the best of Emma – she couldn't pass up the opportunity to study her daughter while she was still unaware. She walked right up to her, gingerly seating herself on the edge of the wooden coffee table positioned between the two sofas. Jocelyn's breathing remained deep and even, and Emma relaxed as she observed her daughter intently, drinking in and cataloguing each one of her too-familiar features. She quickly found herself enthralled by the girl's appearance. The resemblance between herself and Jocelyn was strong, but the longer Emma looked at her, the more she saw Killian echoed in her face. _My god,_ she thought, her gaze landing upon the pointed shell of Jocelyn's ear. _She even has his little elf ears. _She couldn't have dreamt up a more seamless amalgamation of herself and Killian than the girl before her. It was no wonder he was so affected by her. Emma's heart turned over, then seized in her chest. Honestly, she was pretty affected herself, and she wasn't even sure how she felt about Killian in light of the emotional rollercoaster they'd been riding recently.

Jocelyn's face contorted suddenly, her body going stiff as another nightmare gripped her subconscious. A small, terrified whimper slipped past her lips. The sound seemed to strike an innate maternal chord within Emma, and she found herself reaching out automatically. She laid her hand on Jocelyn's forehead, tenderly brushing back her hair while crooning soothingly. Jocelyn's eyes snapped open, all vestiges of sleep rapidly fading as she stared at Emma in disbelief.

"Mom?" she whispered.

"Yes," Emma replied, trying very hard not to react to the strangeness of a grown woman addressing her with that particular title. "It's me. I wanted to talk to you."

Jocelyn pushed herself up into a sitting position with a grunt, and Emma allowed her hand to fall back into her lap. Mother and daughter regarded one another contemplatively, and Emma felt pride swell her heart. Even in her rumpled and sleep-deprived state, Jocelyn was lovely by anyone's standards. Her coloring – Emma's green eyes with Killian's dark hair – was striking, and her high cheekbones, elegantly arched brows, and full lips combined to make her a classic beauty. Emma could even see a distant hint of Henry in Jocelyn's features, primarily owing to the pale constellation of freckles dotted across the bridge of her nose.

Several minutes passed before Emma realized Jocelyn was waiting for her to speak first. She took a deep breath, and then said, "I came here to apologize. I need you to understand I wasn't rejecting you earlier. It just didn't cross my mind that you could be my daughter. I never really considered the possibility of having another child someday." Emma paused, grimacing as a novel thought occurred to her. "You don't have any brothers and sisters running around here, do you? Besides Henry, of course."

"I'm the only one," Jocelyn confirmed. "There was a complication during my birth and as a result you were left barren. We both had to stay in the hospital for several weeks after I was born. Dr. Whale wasn't sure if I would make it, but obviously I pulled through." She shrugged, her expression growing distant. "Dad used to call me his 'wee miracle.'"

Emma frowned, both at the prospect of enduring a difficult delivery and at the mention of Killian. The former was too surreal to even consider, and so she purposely focused her attention on the latter. "Back in our time, Killian and I weren't even in a relationship," she mused. "Granted, there was always _something_ between us, but until…very recently…it hadn't really amounted to much. If someone would've told me yesterday morning that in a few years we will have a child together, I never would've believed it." Jocelyn looked solemn, and Emma suddenly realized how her comment must have sounded to her.

"Not because I couldn't see myself being with him, but because I definitely could," she rushed to clarify. "And the thought used to terrify me so much, the only thing I could do was push him away. I guess you could call it self-defense. I've been hurt so many times, it seemed like too big of a risk to trust someone again."

Jocelyn's mouth turned down at the corners. "That's what everyone's been telling me since you got here, but I think I needed to hear it from you," she said slowly. "It's just been hard for me to accept because the mother I remember was always so open and affectionate. I can't imagine you being any other way."

Emma was taken aback. Never in her life had anyone described her as open, and before Henry showed up on her doorstep she'd had no reason to be affectionate. If she was right about Jocelyn's age, it meant she would become pregnant only two or three years from now. What could possibly happen in such a short amount of time to change her so completely? _You know what happens, _she chastised herself inwardly. _Stop denying it. It's Killian who changes you, when you start believing in his love and loving him in return._ If she wanted proof, she needn't look any further than the girl sitting across from her. Everything Jocelyn had said so far suggested she really had found her happy ending with Killian.

"I know Henry probably asked you not to tell me anything about my future, but can you just tell me one thing?" Emma asked with as much nonchalance as she could muster. She suspected she already knew the answer to the question she wanted to ask, but some secret, vulnerable part of her still wanted to hear Jocelyn say it aloud.

To her relief, the young woman nodded affirmatively, a mischievous grin slowly spreading across her face. "If you haven't noticed, my princely brother is an overly proper, stodgy old git," she said, and Emma once again picked up on her slight lilt. "Not to mention a complete worrywart. Your memories are of no real concern – Regina and Rumpelstiltskin probably concoct forgetting potions every night in their sleep. Ask me anything you want."

"Killian and I, our family…were we happy?" Emma asked in a rush, fully aware she sounded more than a little desperate.

Jocelyn looked bemused. "You two really are meant for each other," she declared, shaking her head. "He asked me the very same thing last night, and I'll tell you exactly what I told him – _always_." Her expression turned serious. "You loved each other and you both loved me, and our home was always filled with laughter and happiness."

Emma sat back. Jocelyn's answer should have eased her mind, but she found herself thinking about the words the girl had hurled at her in anger earlier. _You're gone_, she had said tearfully. _You've been missing for the past five years and the real secret is that it's all my fault._ It seemed something – or, more likely, someone – had meddled with their happy ending.

"Jocelyn, what you said earlier, about Killian and I going missing," Emma said reluctantly. "What happened to us?"

The look on Jocelyn's face almost made Emma wish she could retract her question, but she needed to know the truth and the young woman seemed like the only person who might actually give it to her. Agitated, Jocelyn scrambled to her feet and began pacing the room. Emma found it somewhat disconcerting to watch her daughter engage in one of her own nervous habits.

"A little over five years ago traces of Dark Magic started showing up all over the kingdom," Jocelyn began. "Dad was an admiral in the Royal Navy, and Grandpa sent him and his crew on a mission to investigate. Regina went along as a magical advisor." She glanced at Emma, anticipating her unspoken question. "You wanted to accompany them, but Dad and Grandpa convinced you to stay behind, for my sake. I was fifteen and…a bit of a handful at times."

Emma smiled, recalling the brazen way Jocelyn had challenged them in the forest. Considering her self-assurance and obvious magical powers, she didn't doubt the girl was formidable. If she'd inherited even small traces of Emma's stubbornness and Killian's sass, to say she was a handful was probably an understatement.

"The longer Dad was away, the more paranoid you became," Jocelyn continued, her voice carefully devoid of emotion. "You forbade me to wander outside the castle walls without an escort, but I refused to listen. One morning I snuck out alone to go for a swim in the creek. Afterwards, I used magic to dry myself off and the burst of energy attracted a witch. Not just any witch, but the Dark Sorceress, Morgana Pendragon."

"Wait a minute," Emma blurted out. Was there no end to the list of fictional characters who were actually real? "Do you mean Morgana from the King Arthur legend is a real person?"

Jocelyn ceased pacing momentarily in order to glare at Emma, one perfect eyebrow arched dubiously. "Do I need to remind you that your parents are Snow White and Prince Charming? Or that your son's paternal grandfather is Rumpelstiltskin? Not to mention the fact that you are romantically involved with Captain Hook."

Emma pursed her lips and considered denying Jocelyn's allegations regarding the status of her relationship with 'Captain Hook,' but in the end she held her tongue, recognizing the extreme irony in such a refutation. There wasn't much use denying her involvement with the good captain to their future offspring. "I'm sorry," she said dolefully. "I keep thinking one day I'll wake up and just accept that this is actually my life, but so far no such luck. Please, go on."

"Morgana bound me with an immobilization spell," Jocelyn said flatly, resuming her neurotic pacing. "She intended to kidnap me, and she would've succeeded if you hadn't sensed my distress and gone looking for me. You challenged her, but I'm sorry to say you were no match for her. Morgana has been alive for over a thousand years, and her power is so great even the Dark One fears her. When it became clear you couldn't defeat her, you pleaded with her to release me. She agreed, but only if you consented to go in my place." She stopped abruptly, turning to face Emma. The years seemed to melt from her face, revealing the frightened adolescent who still lurked beneath the young woman's outward show of confidence. Emma's heart constricted – she identified with that look only too well. _Lost girl_, she thought. _I may not have abandoned her on purpose, but the end result was the same. _Her mind transported her twelve years into the past, back to the gut-wrenching moment when she gave her son up without ever holding him in her arms. _Am I destined to fail all of my children this way? _Emma wondered miserably.

"Morgana kept her word," Jocelyn said in a strangled voice, tears welling up in her eyes. "She took you and set me free, but not before putting me under a sleeping curse. Henry was the one who found me, unconscious in the forest, but it was Dad who saved me. He returned as quickly as he could when he received word of my condition and your disappearance. He revived me with True Love's Kiss."

Jocelyn was now crying so hard Emma could barely understand her. "When I woke up, everyone wanted to know what happened to you," she managed to choke out through her tears. "No one realized I'd gone against your wishes and left the castle grounds. I – I let them think you were already with me in the forest and that Morgana ambushed the two of us. I told them you willingly went with her in order to spare me. Dad was devastated – I'd never seen him cry so much before – I just couldn't bear to tell him the truth. He wanted to go after you immediately. Regina advised against it, saying that Morgana was too powerful and he would need help if he planned to face her, but Dad was irrational and he wouldn't listen. He left in the middle of the night to ward off anyone who might try to stop him. He never returned, but all these years I've held onto the hope that he's still alive. That you're both still alive."

Jocelyn fell silent, too overcome with emotion to go on. She swayed on her feet, and Emma realized she was about to collapse under the weight of her own exhaustion and the emotional trauma of finally spilling her darkest secret. She hurried across the room, intending to help her daughter sit down until she regained her composure, but as she drew near Jocelyn surprised her by hurling herself into her arms. Initially Emma froze at her touch, but then something gave way inside of her and she found herself clinging to Jocelyn, powerful sobs rocking them both. Emma cried not only for the broken girl in her arms, but also for the loss of the family she didn't yet have, and at the unfairness of knowing she would finally find her happy ending only to have it wrenched away by a malevolent sorceress.

Emma wasn't sure how much time passed before Jocelyn quieted enough to allow herself to be led to the sofa. They sat down side by side, Jocelyn still clinging to Emma's hands as though she never intended to let her go. Emma studied her daughter's tear-stained face, battling her own verbal ineptitude as she tried to find just the right words to say.

"I know it must've been very hard for you to tell the truth after all this time. Thank you for being brave enough to share it with me," she said softly, squeezing Jocelyn's hands in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. "You need to know none of what happened with Morgana was your fault. You couldn't have known she was out there or what she intended to do."

Jocelyn shook her head. "That's not true," she insisted stubbornly. "You warned me over and over again that something dangerous was out there and asked me not to venture outside the castle walls alone. If only I'd listened, you and Dad would still be here. Our family was ripped apart because of me." The anguish and guilt she felt was written all over her face.

"Jocelyn, please listen to me," Emma said firmly. "It was not your fault. You were a just a child, and you made a mistake. I promise you, if you tell everyone the truth, no one will blame you. You never know, it just might make you feel better to get rid of this burden you've carried for so long now." Jocelyn still looked unconvinced, but she made no rebuttal.

"Killian and I are here now, though," Emma said, suddenly making a decision. "I know we aren't the…versions of ourselves…that you remember, but I think he would agree with me when I say we won't let go of our happy ending without a fight. There has to be some way we can set things right."

To Emma's surprise, Jocelyn smiled. "He told me you'd say that," she said. "Maybe there is a way…it just so happens that Grandpa's army has finally located Morgana's lair. She was on the run for a long time after she captured you, but Grandpa believes she's now taken up residence on an island in the Crystal Sea. Grandpa and Henry are planning to storm the island as soon as they amass a large enough army for the attack." She paused. "Henry doesn't know it yet, but I plan to go with them. It doesn't matter how many knights they manage to convince to join their army – they will never defeat Morgana without magic."

"Then I will go with you," Emma stated resolutely. She didn't try to argue with Jocelyn or insist that the mission was too dangerous for her to go along. She could tell by the familiar gleam in her daughter's eyes that her words would only fall upon deaf ears. Jocelyn was an adult, and Emma sensed she would make her own decisions for better or for worse. "If Morgana is as powerful as you say, you'll need all the magical help you can get."

Jocelyn's smile faded. "You weren't strong enough to defeat her the first time around," she said bluntly. "But together I think we might have a good shot at it. Last night in the library I came across an ancient prophecy foretelling Morgana's demise at the hands of a practitioner of Light Magic."

"What did it say?" Emma asked, intrigued. While she'd come to wholeheartedly accept such fantastical notions as True Love and time travel, the concept of prophecies was new to her.

Jocelyn stood, pulling Emma up with her. Her forlorn expression was gone, replaced by a look of sheer determination. "Before I tell you about the prophecy, I think we should go find Henry and Dad so I can tell you all at the same time," she said. "If we're really going to take on Morgana, we need to come up with a plan. She seems to be staying in one place for now, but I don't think we should waste any time."

"Okay," Emma agreed. "I left Killian back in the library, and the last I saw Henry he was in the dining hall."

"We'll check there first," said Jocelyn, guiding Emma towards the door.


	11. An Impossible Choice

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**: An Impossible Choice _(Killian's POV_)

Killian sat alone at a table in the library, surrounded by the stack of bulky tomes Jocelyn had spent the previous night perusing, attempting to distract himself while he waited for Emma to return. He flipped through the musty pages of _An Annotated History of Camelot_ with unnecessary savagery and complete disregard for the volume's antiquity, his eyes scanning the words without comprehension. Finally he pushed the book away with a heavy sigh and slouched back into the welcoming arms of the wing chair. Killian reached automatically for his flask, patting his left breast absently, and was surprised to feel soft linen rather than roughhewn leather beneath his palm.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, looking down at his chest. In his distraction he'd completely forgotten he wasn't dressed in his usual attire and that his flask was still safely hidden in one of the many inner pockets of his signature black duster. "Just as well, mate," he said to himself. "You don't deserve to get drunk."

"It's a bit early for that anyway."

Killian jerked his head up at the sound of Henry's voice. Emma's son strode into the room, his brows knitted together in an expression strongly reminiscent of his recently – in Killian's mind, at least –deceased father. A pang of remorse momentarily tightened Killian's chest at the thought of his old friend, but in his current state of self-loathing, he welcomed the familiar pain.

"I don't suppose you could tell me what happened here?" asked Henry with a touch of exasperation. "One of the maids just informed me that she saw my sister tearing through the halls like she was being chased by an ogre, followed shortly thereafter by a mystery women bearing a strong resemblance to my mother."

Killian didn't see any point in beating around the bush. "Emma found out about Jocelyn," he said bluntly, not bothering to stand to greet Henry. "She happened upon us here in the library and demanded to know why we were sneaking around together."

"And you just told her the truth even though I specifically asked you not to?" Henry stared down at Killian disapprovingly. Despite his earlier assertion to the contrary, the prince was clearly accustomed to people complying with his orders. Henry's condemnation was making Killian feel like a chastened child, and his temper flared. Regardless of their good intentions, he knew now that it had been wrong to keep the truth from Emma, and ultimately the secret had blown up in his face.

"With all due respect, _your majesty_," he said defiantly, rising to his feet. "We had no right to keep it from her in the first place. She deserves to know about her own daughter."

Henry closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. "What exactly did you tell her? More importantly, how did she take it?"

Killian hesitated. He didn't want to lie to Henry, but he also didn't want to admit Jocelyn had actually been the one to tell Emma the truth for fear he'd turn his disappointment on her. Henry hummed expectantly, prompting Killian to say, warily, "Emma and I were arguing and Jocelyn interrupted us. She was the one who told Emma the truth." He paused, wincing a little at the memory of Jocelyn's tear-stained face and Emma's ghostly white one. "Emma was…well, she was stunned, and speechless. Her lack of response rattled Jocelyn so much she fled." Killian flexed his fingers, remembering the magical shock Jocelyn had inflicted upon him when he'd tried to stop her from leaving. He laughed bitterly. "Like mother, like daughter, I suppose."

"My mother, she went after her?" Henry asked. His tone suggested this was the last thing he'd expected Emma to do. Killian felt another stab of anger.

"Aye, she did," he confirmed. Henry still looked skeptical, and Killian raised his eyebrow. "Does that surprise you? It shouldn't. Things might be complicated back in our own time, but Emma is much stronger and more perceptive than you give her credit for. I knew it, but I allowed my own fear of rejection to overcome my best judgment when I went along with your plan to keep the truth from her."

Henry stared at Killian for a long moment. "You're right, of course," he acquiesced. "But then you've always understood my mother better than most. However, it was never her reaction to the truth I feared so much as the effect that knowledge might have on her choices when you return to your own time."

"Jocelyn has assured me that a forgetting potion is a relatively simple decoction for either Regina or the Dark One," Killian said reassuringly. He briefly contemplated exactly how much of Jocelyn's plan to divulge to Henry before deciding on full disclosure. No sense branding himself a hypocrite after he'd just railed against the prince for wanting to keep things from Emma. "She also apprised me of our fate here in this future and your plans to challenge Morgana. "

Henry sank wearily onto a nearby chair, his shoulders slumping forward. Killian noticed for the first time how tired and haggard he looked, and how unlike the spirited youth he had grown fond of back in Storybrooke. "These past five years have been very difficult for all of us," Henry said softly. "Especially Jocelyn. I fear she's starting to lose hope that you and Mom will ever return."

Killian reclaimed his seat on the wing chair, turning it so he faced Henry. "This attack you're planning," he said. "Perhaps there's some way Emma and I can help. Morgana's abilities are legendary, surely it wouldn't hurt to have the Savior's magic on your side – "

"Absolutely not," Henry interjected, shaking his head vigorously. "If either of you were killed, not only would you be lost to us, it would also mean that Joss would never be born. I refuse to put your lives on the line, Killian."

"Do you not think I feel the same way about Emma and Jocelyn?" Killian said loudly, startling both himself and Henry with his vehemence. He leaped up in frustration and stalked over to one of the library's many tall windows. "I look at Jocelyn and I see all the things I never even dared to dream about – the promise of a happy future, a family. Living proof that someday Emma will return my love." He paused, resting his hand and hook on the stone window sill as he attempted to gather his thoughts. "I would have loved Jocelyn just for that, but after talking to her last night there's already so much more. She's Emma all over again, stubborn and beautiful and _bloody brilliant_…but there's something of myself in her as well. All the good I still have within me, I see in her." He sought Henry's gaze again, uncaring that his very heart was reflected in his eyes. "Gods, I can't explain it, but you have to know I love her, Henry – I love them _both_ – and that's why I just can't – "

A muffled cry interrupted Killian's impassioned speech. Both he and Henry turned towards the sound. Emma and Jocelyn stood in the doorway, and Killian could tell by their expressions that they'd overheard his soliloquy. Jocelyn ran to him immediately, but Emma remained frozen in place, her hand covering her mouth, her wide green eyes alight with emotion. Killian hugged their daughter tightly, his eyes meeting Emma's over Jocelyn's dark head.

_No more secrets, Swan, _he thought. _I've said it aloud and now you know, without a shadow of a doubt, the true nature of my feelings for you. _Wordlessly, he held out his hand, beckoning her to come to him, willing her to not only acknowledge his inadvertent confession but to embrace it. Emma hesitated, her internal struggle clearly visible on her face, fear and hope battling for supremacy as she considered his silent request. The moment dragged on, the passing seconds marked by the steady tick-tock of the library's grandfather clock, and just when Killian was sure he could no longer withstand the suspense, Emma made her decision. Boldly holding his gaze in spite of the tears now spilling over onto her cheeks, she crossed the room and allowed him to pull her into his and Jocelyn's embrace. Killian's heart swelled with more love and pride than he'd ever felt in all the many years of his overly long life.

"Oh Emma," he whispered, burying his face in the golden cascade of her hair as she wrapped one arm around him and the other around Jocelyn's waist. Time and the outside world were reduced to insignificance until there was nothing present in Killian's universe except for the two women in his arms.

The low rumblings of hushed conversation eventually pierced the protective atmosphere surrounding their little world. Reluctantly, Killian opened his eyes and scanned the library for the source of the sound. In order to grant them some privacy, Henry had thoughtfully retreated into the stacks where he was now speaking to a tall man with broad shoulders and wavy blond hair. Recognizing that their shared moment was over, Killian gave Emma a gentle squeeze, then planted a brief kiss on Jocelyn's forehead before stepping away and motioning for Henry and his companion to join them. The two men moved out of the shadowy gloom clinging to the towering stacks and strode into the light. Beside him, Killian felt Emma stiffen as the pair drew near.

"Dad!" she exclaimed, rushing forward.

"Emma!" the blond man replied joyfully, jogging towards her. Emma stopped abruptly, her brow furrowing. Although the man bore an uncanny resemblance to Emma's father, he was much too young to be the David Nolan of this time.

"It's me," David's doppelganger said with a touch more reserve, noting Emma's confusion. "Neal."

"Neal?" Emma repeated, her tone uncertain.

Prince Neal frowned, realizing that stating his name had apparently not helped to clarify his identity. "I'm…your brother?" he said haltingly, the last syllable of his statement rising into a question.

Comprehension finally dawned on Emma's face. "My brother," she said softly, gazing up at him with the same gentleness she'd reserved for his infant self in Storybrooke. He smiled, relief smoothing the worry out of his handsome features and further accentuating his likeness to the David of Emma and Killian's time. "Of course. I don't know how I didn't realize immediately – you look just like our father. I thought you were him for a moment, before I remembered where – when – we are."

"It's okay," Neal replied. "You've been through a lot these past few days. I'm sure it must be very disconcerting."

"You said your name is…Neal?" Emma asked, stumbling almost imperceptibly over the name. Killian sensed her distress and immediately understood the reason. The only "Neal" in her world was Henry's father – a dead man with whom she'd had a complicated relationship, to say the least. _Of all the names in the realms_, he thought, silently cursing Emma's parents for their insensitivity as he moved to stand beside her. _Why the bloody hell did they have to choose __**that **__one?_

"You'll have to forgive us, milord," Killian interjected, hoping to cover Emma's discomfiture. "I'm afraid that our…temporal displacement…has made us rather late for your naming ceremony back in our own time." He extended his hand to Emma's brother and smiled his most charming smile. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Neal."

"You can forget the 'milord' and 'Prince Neal' nonsense, Killian. We're family, after all!" he said, his face splitting into his father's trademark easy grin as he gave Killian's hand a vigorous shake. "It's good to see you again, my brother." He slung an arm around Emma's shoulders. "You, too, big sister."

Before Killian could to react to Neal's implication that he was, in fact, a member of the Charming family, the young prince was continuing, "My parents have called an emergency meeting of the Royal Assembly. I've been sent to fetch you – all of you – " His gaze fell on each of them in turn. " – to the council chamber. Immediately." He attempted to steer Emma towards the door.

"Hold on," Emma said, slipping out of Neal's grasp. "I thought our parents were away on a diplomatic mission? At least, that's what Jocelyn told us when she found us in the forest."

Jocelyn looked pointedly at Henry, who quickly responded, "They were, Mom. Shortly after I learned of your arrival yesterday, I had Neal send a bird to inform them of the…situation…here. I didn't think they'd be back until this evening, at the earliest. They must have ridden through the night."

"It's just as well," said Jocelyn. "There's something I need to share with the Assembly, some new information that may sway the confrontation with Morgana in our favor."

"Right," said Henry. "We'd better head over there – I don't want to keep Grandma and Grandpa waiting after they travelled all night." He clapped Neal on the shoulder, oblivious to the way Jocelyn bristled at his dismissal. The two princes headed for the door, and after a beat Jocelyn sullenly fell into step behind them.

Seeing an opportunity, Killian hung back with Emma, taking hold of her elbow and encouraging her to slow her pace until they lagged well behind the others. "In case you're wondering," she muttered under her breath, stubbornly training her eyes straight ahead. "I'm still mad at you, so don't think you're getting off the hook that easily."

In spite of her words, Emma's tone was light, and Killian could not resist raising an eyebrow at her choice of metaphors. However, the gesture was lost on her seeing as she refused to look at him. "I didn't expect to be," he said evenly. "Just as I don't plan to – as you put it – let _you_ off the hook by forgetting what just happened back in the library." He circled her forearm with his hook for emphasis, enjoying the way she drew her breath in sharply as the cool metal came into contact with her bare skin.

"Killian," Emma said, coming to a halt and finally meeting his gaze. Her expression was completely open, and although hurt still lingered in her eyes, there was more than a little warmth there, too. "I'm not going to try and pretend I didn't hear what you said. I thought my reaction made that clear enough."

"So that embrace," Killian said slowly. "Are you telling me it…meant something?" Emma smiled slightly, reminiscently. He smiled back, knowing she was thinking of the first time he'd spoken those words to her, deep in the jungles of Neverland, in the aftermath of an entirely different sort of embrace.

Before she could reply, Henry called out to them from down the hall. "Mom! Is everything all right?"

Emma jumped at the interruption, then hastily called back, "Yes, sorry – we're coming!" She shot Killian an apologetic look, and he sighed. It seemed Henry had a real knack for inadvertently disrupting his and Emma's intimate moments. Leaving their conversation unfinished, they quickly rejoined the others where they had gathered outside a large, heavy-looking door that presumably led to the council chamber.

"Our parents are waiting inside with as many members of the Royal Assembly as they could muster on short notice," said Neal, addressing Emma. "Everyone knows to expect you, but it's still going to be a bit of a shock…and not just from their perspective." He glanced from his sister to Killian. "Are you ready?"

Emma didn't respond right away. She looked pale and a bit apprehensive about the prospect of coming face-to-face with her parents. Killian thought he understood why meeting them might disarm her even more than encountering thirty-five year old Henry had. Seeing the middle-aged versions of Snow White and David would make this surreal trip to the future feel a hell of a lot more real. Decades spent frozen in time notwithstanding, the four of them were roughly the same age. It would be impossible for he and Emma not to imagine themselves in their fifties, thereby facing their own eventual aging, which was – admittedly – not something Killian had ever spent much time considering.

Killian felt Jocelyn's eyes on him. They exchanged a glance, and then, by tacit agreement, stepped forward to flank Emma supportively. "Can you give us just a minute?" Jocelyn asked.

"Of course," said Neal graciously. "Henry and I will go on ahead and let them know you're out here. Come in when you're ready."

Henry embraced Emma briefly. "Don't worry, Mom," he said reassuringly. "This will all be over soon, and you'll be on your way back to your own time." Killian noticed the way Emma carefully avoided looking at Jocelyn as she hugged Henry back. Not for the first time, he wondered what the two of them had talked about before their return to the library. Neal and Henry entered the council chamber, leaving Killian, Emma, and Jocelyn in the empty hallway. Emma exhaled in relief.

"Thank you," she said to Jocelyn. "I had a bit of a panic attack there when I realized I was about three seconds away from seeing my parents. I thought I'd have a bit more time to get used to the idea before they got back."

Jocelyn looked confused. "Is seeing them somehow more strange than seeing Henry…or meeting me?" she asked.

"Sort of," Emma replied. "I mean, it's all been a shock, but seeing them would make it that much more real." Killian couldn't help but smile as he listened to Emma voice his own thoughts. "It's…hard to explain."

"It has something to do with facing our own mortality," he said to Jocelyn, attempting to clarify Emma's statement. "The reality of aging." He snorted ironically. "A reality I've spent a good many years avoiding, I might add."

"I see." Jocelyn's smile was perhaps a touch more amused than understanding. "You are afraid to see Grandma and Grandpa looking 'old,'" she said, pantomiming quotation marks. "Because then you'll be forced to envision yourselves that way."

"Well, no – " Emma started to protest, but then gave up and shrugged. "Actually yes. Pretty much exactly that." Jocelyn and Killian laughed – Killian at himself, and Jocelyn at both of them.

"But I think I can get over it if you can," Emma continued with a sheepish look at Killian.

Before he could reply, Jocelyn cleared her throat and said, "My reasons for delaying weren't entirely noble. I wanted to make sure we're all on the same page before I speak to the Assembly. It will go over better if the three of us present a united front."

"What exactly are you planning?" Killian asked suspiciously, all traces of humor fading away as he recalled Jocelyn's earlier ramblings. "This morning it sounded as though you were thinking of confronting Morgana yourself."

"That's the plan," Jocelyn confirmed. "To go after her and bring you and Mom – future you and Mom – back home."

Killian looked at Emma, aghast. "And you are…okay…with this plan?"

"Killian, she's not a little girl," Emma said gently. "We can't stop her, but we can help her in any way that we can – which is why I'm going with her."

"Are you both mad?!" Killian sputtered incredulously. "Morgana is the most powerful dark sorceress in all the realms, and while I am well aware that the two of you possess immense raw power, you are amateurs compared to her."

"You have to trust me, Dad," Jocelyn pleaded. "You promised me you wouldn't go until things were resolved. I'm telling you there is a resolution – it's all in the prophecy."

"Just what did this prophecy say?" Killian focused on Emma. "Did she tell you about it?"

Emma and Jocelyn exchanged a look. "Jocelyn wanted to wait until we were all together to share it," she said. "That's why we came back to the library when we did."

"Go on then, love, let's hear it," Killian said to Jocelyn through clenched teeth, trying hard to control his temper. "I'd at least like to know what I'm agreeing to before I agree to it."

"There's no time," Jocelyn said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The Assembly is waiting. If we're going to do this, we need to do it now. Please, Dad, just…trust me."

Killian found himself torn over his need to protect his loved ones and the desire to support his daughter. When he'd promised they to help Jocelyn he hadn't expected it to entail putting her and Emma's lives in danger. A truly naïve assumption considering that _mortal peril_ appeared to be a natural state of being for the Savior and her family. And he had to admit Emma had a point – Jocelyn was a grown woman, and a stubborn one at that. _Just like her mother_, he thought grimly. If she was determined to face Morgana, there was truly nothing he or anyone else could do to stop her.

"I trust you," he said emphatically. "It's just that I don't want to lose you. Either of you."

"You won't," Jocelyn insisted softly. "Just the opposite, if we succeed. You'll get me back…we'll get our happy ending back."

It was on the tip of Killian's tongue to point out that, if they failed, they could lose everything. If he or Emma – or both of them – were killed in the battle with Morgana, their chance at happiness would be lost before they had even begun to live it. Jocelyn would never exist…he would never know his daughter as a babe or have the privilege of nurturing the little girl who would someday blossom into the determined young woman standing before him. On the other hand, if they did nothing, they'd be condemning Jocelyn to live the rest of her life without her parents. He would never give her away at her wedding or hold a grandchild in his arms, and he and Emma would be doomed to live as Morgana's captives forever.

Killian's head throbbed as he pondered their options. It was an impossible choice. He felt Emma's eyes on him, and he met her insistent gaze with a searching look of his own. There would be no dissuading her, that much was clear. If Jocelyn was going, Emma would stand by her side – and he would stand by _her_ side, just as he had ever since the day they first met. _You chose her_. Cora's words echoed in his mind. _Aye,_ he thought, his eyes still locked with Emma's. _I did. And I'd gladly chose her again and again, every day until I breathe my last breath, whether it comes tomorrow or many years from now._ He could only pray it would be the latter.

"All right then," he said finally, with just a hint of exasperation. He somehow managed to tear his eyes away from Emma's as he turned to face their daughter. "Whatever you're planning, we're in it together."

Jocelyn nodded grimly. "Are you ready?" she asked Emma. At her mother's nod, she opened the door and led the way into the council chamber.


	12. Family Reunion

**CHAPTER TWELVE**: Family Reunion _(Jocelyn's POV_)

"Emma!" exclaimed Snow as she abandoned her seat at the council chamber's distinctive round table, the silk and crinoline of her skirts swishing loudly in the silence that had befallen the room. David, whose attention had been focused on the large map laid out on the table, looked up immediately at the sound of his wife's joyful cry. He inhaled sharply when his gaze landed on Emma, and he reached out automatically to grasp Snow's hand. Even from ten meters away Jocelyn could see his knuckles turn white. Everyone in the room collectively held their breath as the King and Queen simply stared, teary-eyed and speechless, at the time-traveling version of their long-lost daughter now standing before them. Jocelyn followed her grandparents' gaze to Emma, who clutched Killian's hand with a grip that appeared equally as bone-crushing as David's hold on Snow's. Something in her expression made Jocelyn recall the first part of their conversation in the hallway, and she narrowed her eyes at Snow and David, attempting to see them through thirty-year-old Emma's eyes.

Even in her early fifties, Snow was still a great beauty, and Jocelyn could easily see why she had once been referred to as "the fairest in the land." Her skin was still flawless and pale as polished ivory, signs of aging evident only in the faint creases in the corners of her eyes and mouth. The strands of white and silver threading her long dark hair leant her an air of dignity wholly befitting a queen. Snow's figure also belied her age, owing largely to her penchant for hunting game and her insistence upon riding alongside her husband during military campaigns.

As for David, he was still more handsome than many men half his age. Even the young women of the kingdom blushed and giggled in his presence. The king's countenance remained remarkably youthful, and the few lines and wrinkles he possessed made him look distinguished rather than aged. His dark blond hair hid the grey well, and he was as fit and trim as his wife. However, one look at Emma and Killian made it clear that Snow and David were no longer young, and the effect was clearly shocking for both couples.

"Mom? Dad?" Emma said tentatively, her voice sounding overly loud in the hushed room. She took a halting step forward, and that was all it took to bring Snow and David rushing to meet her. Snow all but fell into her daughter's arms, and David wrapped them both in a tight embrace. Killian hung back with Jocelyn, unsure whether or not he belonged in the midst of this emotional family reunion. Jocelyn stood close by him, her shoulder touching his upper arm, hoping her presence would serve to remind him that he most certainly did.

"Oh Emma, my baby girl," whispered Snow. She planted a gentle kiss on Emma's forehead before turning to embrace Killian. He stood frozen in the circle of her arms, his expression comically blank. Jocelyn caught Emma's eye just in time to see her duck her head to hide her smile.

"It is so very good to see you, Killian," Snow said, patting his cheek in a motherly gesture as she pulled away. At a loss for words following this affectionate reception, Killian blushed furiously, scratching behind his right ear as he attempted to mask his discomposure. The gesture was so endearing and familiar it made tears well up in Jocelyn's eyes. It just seemed so _right_ to be in the same room with her parents and grandparents once again. She rubbed at her eyes furiously, determined not to cry yet again. Thankfully, a familiar sardonic voice diverted everyone's attention back to the round table, giving Jocelyn a moment to rein in her emotions.

"This is all so very touching," drawled Regina. "But I _thought_ we were in the middle of a crisis here?" Regal as ever, the former queen rose to her feet and glided gracefully across the room to Emma, whose wary expression changed to one of utter disbelief when Regina greeted her with a friendly hug.

"You can close your mouth, _Miss Swan_," Regina smirked as she pulled away, noting the dumbfounded look on Emma's face. "In this timeline you and I have come to be – how do they put it back in your world – BFFs." When Emma failed to reply, Regina continued, "Believe me, no one was more surprised by that development than me."

"Mom's right," said Henry. "We do have a bit of a pressing situation here." He gestured to the empty chairs around the table. "Why don't you all sit down and I'll bring everyone up to speed."

As they took their seats, Jocelyn took note of the other Assembly members in attendance. Aside from her immediate family members and Regina, there was Robin Locksley – he was never very far from Regina – Neal, and…Roland. Damn it, she'd forgotten that, as commander of the Elite Knights, he was entitled to a seat on the Royal Assembly. Jocelyn fidgeted in her seat, studiously eschewing eye contact despite the fact that Roland's dark gaze was burning a hole in the side of her face. She trained her eyes on Henry, half-heartedly listening to his attempt at explaining their theory regarding Emma and Killian's arrival.

"Dark magic leaves behind a signature, which is what attracts any new or latent dark magic to the area where the spell or curse was cast - that's how we've been tracking Morgana all this time," Regina said when Henry was finished. "I've never heard of a dark spell so powerful that its magnetism transcends time, but there really aren't very many documented cases oftime travel so there's not much to go on. I'd say your theory is certainly plausible."

"Assuming we can send Mom and Killian back to their own time, can you concoct a forgetting potion for them to take before they go?" Henry asked Regina.

"Of course," she replied with a nod. "I may need to gather a few ingredients, but I could have it ready in a few days."

"Henry," David interjected, his brow furrowing. "How do you propose to send them back? I don't imagine you're planning to sacrifice an infant to create another portal." He glanced at his son. Zelena had kidnapped Neal immediately after his birth in order to collect one of the more gruesome ingredients required for her time travel spell – the blood of an innocent.

"Don't worry, that is most definitely NOT the plan," Henry assured his grandfather. He gestured to Emma. "In the past, Mom reopened the time portal using a wand Rumpelstiltskin had in his vault. A very special wand, one that can recreate any spell. I sent a bird to his castle yesterday evening to inform him about our situation. With any luck, he still has the wand and will be able to bring it here."

Regina arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow. "You mean _Rumple_ has the Black Fairy's wand? It's very powerful and _extremely_ dangerous, but I can think of at least a dozen times that wand could've saved us a hell of a lot of trouble. I can't believe he's had it all this time and never told any of us about it." She paused, considering. "On second thought, yes I can. That conniving little _imp_," she grumbled crossly. Robin patted her in a conciliatory way, but she simply crossed her arms and sat back in her chair with an indignant _hmpf_.

"Just who are you calling an 'imp,' dearie?"

Half the people sitting around the table jumped at the sound of Rumpelstiltskin's voice. Jocelyn's back was facing the door, but she recognized the irregular limping cadence of his gait, accompanied as always by the click of his cane on the stone floor. Beside her, she heard Emma's audible gasp and a muttered, "By the gods," from Killian. Jocelyn turned towards her parents, immediately realizing the reason for their shock. Clearly they'd been expecting the Dark One of the Enchanted Forest, his glittering visage unchanged by the passage of time, or perhaps the sinisterly imposing Mr. Gold of Storybrooke. The man approaching the table was neither.

Among the former residents of Storybrooke, Rumpelstiltskin was without a doubt the one who had changed the most over the past twenty-three years. Over the course of his long life, he'd chosen power over love so many times that even those closest to him believed his soul was forever lost to the darkness. It took nearly losing another child – his son with his beloved Belle – for Rumple to finally overcome his greatest weakness. Not long after their return to the Enchanted Forest, the child was struck down by one of Rumple's many enemies. In guilt and desperation, Rumple instructed Emma to harness the immense magic contained within the Dark One dagger and use it to amplify her own magic and save his son. The dagger was destroyed in the process and with it Rumple's power. The tenets of the Dark One curse dictated that such an act that should have killed him, but because his intentions were sincerely selfless and motivated by True Love, the curse of the Dark One was broken instead. Rumple's life was spared, but his second chance came at a price.

After centuries of invincibility, he suddenly found himself back in his imperfect mortal body. He'd aged quickly and badly, the intervening years further twisting his crippled leg and wasting his already slight frame. His habit of leaning heavily on his cane had also deformed his spine, and the overall effect was that he now bore a distinct resemblance to Quasimodo, the hunchback who maintained Mysthaven's grand cathedral. Although he could no longer practice magic without the use of a wand or other enchanted artifact, Rumple retained his immense magical knowledge and frequently served as an advisor to the King and Queen. Despite his physical limitations, his reputation as the last Dark One preceded him, and he was still feared and respected in the magical community.

As Rumple hobbled slowly towards the table, Jocelyn noticed he carefully avoided looking at his old rival. She felt a stab of sympathy – Killian's youth and physical perfection certainly provided a stark contrast to Rumple's ancient, ruined form. Henry, always a perfect gentleman, met his grandfather halfway and offered him his arm. The old man took it gratefully and allowed Henry to guide him to an open chair.

"Where's Belle?" Snow asked after Rumple was seated, a note of concern in her voice. Jocelyn wondered that herself. Rumple and his wife were generally inseparable, particularly now that he was so diminished physically.

"She chose to remain behind at our castle," he replied gruffly. "Her father is very ill. She fears he will be gone within the week."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Grandpa," Henry said sincerely. "Thank you for coming under the circumstances."

"Of course, my boy. As always, I am at your disposal," said Rumple, bowing as well as he could from his seat. "However, time is of the essence because I should like to return to Belle directly." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a wand, setting it down and pushing it towards Henry. "I believe this is the item you referred to in your letter."

Henry nodded to Emma. "Mom?"

She leaned over and picked up the wand. "This is definitely it," she said after studying it for a few moments. "I remember feeling this way when I held it the first time…so much power." She shuddered and set the wand back on the table, looking sheepish. "Too much power – I almost can't believe I was able to harness it."

Rumple leveled Emma with a stern look. "How is that you ended up here after leaving my vault?" he asked. "As far as I recall, no one ever mentioned this little detour when you returned to Storybrooke."

"Actually, we aren't sure how they ended up here, or if their being here is even part of their original timeline," said Henry. He repeated the magical magnetism theory, but when he finished, Rumple shook his head.

"Interesting theory, but I'm afraid it's impossible," the former Dark One said bluntly. "The magnetic pull of even the darkest of magic is simply not strong enough to transcend time."

"If you have another theory, please, don't keep it to yourself," Regina drawled, still clearly irritated by the fact that Rumple had kept the Black Fairy's wand hidden for so many years.

"There is only one magic powerful enough to transcend time," Rumple said with a theatrical wave of his hand. He paused dramatically. "True love."

There was no mistaking Killian's reaction to this alternative theory. He fidgeted like a guilty child being interrogated by a knowing parent, and his disconcertment did not escape Rumple's attention. For the first time since his arrival, he gave Killian a direct look.

"Something you'd like to say, Captain?" he asked, his gleefully nasty tone raising Jocelyn's ire. The old man clearly enjoyed seeing his former adversary squirm. Rumple's behavior seemed out of character to Jocelyn. She'd always liked Rumple – he'd been kind to her when she was young, mentoring her and helping her with her magic during his visits to the castle. Granted, there had always been some residual tension between Rumple and her father, but over the years they'd learned to be civil and work together out of necessity. It seemed to Jocelyn that interacting with this young version of Killian had resurrected some of Rumple's deep-seated resentment for the dashing pirate his first wife had once loved.

"Erm, no," Killian muttered, straightening up. Jocelyn attempted to catch his eye, but he was completely focused on Rumpelstiltskin, glaring back at the old man distastefully. An uncomfortable silence descended as the hostile tension between the two men filled the room.

"We may never know what brought my mother and Killian here from the past, and we aren't here to dissect theories," Henry reminded the group in a tone that left no room for dissension. "Now that we have the tools we need to send them back home, there are far more pressing matters at hand. As most of you know, thanks to the diligence of our magical advisors, we are closer to catching up to Morgana than we've ever been. Our intel suggests that she's taken refuge right here in our own kingdom on an island in the Crystal Sea. Naval fleets and foot soldiers from our allies are already en route to a rendezvous point along the shore, and our own navy is ready to set sail at my command."

"I've sent a summons to the Elite Knights requesting their immediate return to the castle," Roland added. "Once they arrive, we will lead the Royal Army overland to the rendezvous point."

"You can't seriously think you can defeat Morgana, the most powerful dark sorceress in all the realms, with _an army_," Rumple exclaimed, incredulous. He turned to his grandson. "Henry, this is madness."

"As much as it pains me to say this, Rumpelstiltskin is right," said Regina. She put her hand on Henry's arm. "It's suicide." She cast an apologetic glance at Emma and Killian. "You don't even know if they're still alive."

"I have every reason to believe they are," Henry replied firmly. "I've spent the past five years researching Morgana and her habits. She refers to herself as a…collector. She's kidnapped dozens of light magic practitioners over the centuries, and I imagine she considers the Savior to be the ultimate trophy. She doesn't kill her prisoners – her methods are far more sinister than that. She prefers to force them to use their magic to do her bidding, using whatever means necessary to ensure their cooperation. Seeing their pain, breaking them…it's what she enjoys." He stopped, his expression taut. The room fell silent.

Jocelyn felt sick. She couldn't erase the mental image Henry's words had conjured. _Her proud, honorable, defiant mother refusing to comply with Morgana's heinous requests. The sorceress torturing a weak and bedraggled Killian before Emma's eyes until she finally relented. _Jocelyn imagined her father screaming at Emma through his pain, telling her not to worry about him, to _never_ give in to that evil witch. Choking back tears, Jocelyn channeled her despair inward, transforming it into a colossal, seething rage.

_I'm coming for you, Morgana, _she thought vehemently. _I'm not a little girl anymore, and when I find you, I'll make you pay for what you've done to my family. _ Jocelyn heard the witch's maniacal laughter echoing in her mind, a sound that had often haunted her worst nightmares. She heard it so clearly that for a moment she wondered if she'd actually managed to project her thoughts to Morgana and was now hearing the sorceress' response. Her magic seemed to think the sound was real enough – she felt it dancing down the length of her arms, begging for release. Jocelyn looked down at her hands and was surprised to see that the sparks of light radiating from her fingertips were not the familiar white but rather a shocking blood red. Quickly she sat on her hands, more to prevent anyone from seeing than to contain the magic.

"Henry will have more than an army at his disposal when he takes on Morgana," Jocelyn blurted out recklessly, her brashness fueled by her anger. "He'll have magic."

"Whose magic?" Rumple demanded. "Yours?" Although Jocelyn simply stared back at him in silence, the stubborn set of her jaw gave sufficient affirmation that Rumple's assumption was correct. Her former mentor shook his head and sighed, but when he continued his voice was not unkind. "Forgive me, dearie, but while you once possessed a great and rare talent, you've squandered your gifts by ignoring them these past five years. If you attempt to face Morgana, you will only get yourself killed. Or worse, you will join your mother as part of her collection."

"Jocelyn's won't be the only magic in the fight," Emma said matter-of-factly. She rose from her seat and moved to stand behind her daughter. "I'm going with her." Pandemonium erupted as half the people around the table simultaneously voiced their opposition.

"Emma, no!" Snow and David cried out in unison.

"Oh yes, great idea seeing as the Savior was so effective against the witch the first time around." That was Regina.

"Fools, both of you," muttered Rumple. "You risk completely unravelling the timeline."

"You can't do this Joss – I won't let you!" yelled Roland with such passionate vehemence that his father and Regina turned to look at Jocelyn suspiciously.

"ENOUGH!" roared Henry, his baritone clearly audible above the cacophony. He slammed his fists into the table in frustration. Everyone quieted at once, and the sound of Henry's harsh, angry breathing filled the room. The Crown Prince's face was ghastly white except for a pair of bright red blotches on his cheeks.

"Rumpelstiltskin is right," said Henry in a voice that was far more controlled than he looked. "Mom, neither you or Joss are fully trained, and Joss hasn't even used magic in years. There's more at stake here than just your life. If you were captured or killed, this timeline would cease to exist, and Jocelyn would never even be born. I would lose both of you, and god knows who else." Henry stopped to look at his stepfather. "Killian, please, help me out here. I thought we had an understanding."

Killian regarded Henry grimly before turning to Jocelyn. "I think it's time you told everyone about this mysterious prophecy, love," he said.


	13. The Sorcerer

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**: The Sorcerer _(Emma's POV_)

"A mysterious prophecy?" Henry echoed Killian's words as his agitated gaze landed upon his sister. "Jocelyn, what in the world is he talking about?"

_Yes, please tell us_, Emma thought as she placed her hands on Jocelyn's shoulders to communicate her solidarity. Her curiosity had been piqued when Jocelyn first mentioned the prophecy back in her apartment, but here in this room – surrounded by these future versions of her entire, eclectic extended family – the suspense was nearly unbearable.

"Perhaps I should start at the beginning," Jocelyn said slowly. She touched Emma's hand briefly before standing up and making her way over to Henry. When she reached him, she knelt down at his side and hung her head shamefully. "I am so sorry, Henry, but I've been lying to you for all these years."

"Lying to me about what? Please, Joss, get up off the floor." Henry attempted to pull Jocelyn to her feet but she flinched, brushing his hands away.

"Don't," she muttered. "You might not want to touch me after you know the truth."

"You're not making any sense," Henry said gently, his concern over his sister's strange behavior rapidly absorbing the last traces of his earlier anger. "Would you just look at me and tell me what's going on?"

Henry frowned, and Emma noted the depth of the worry lines on his forehead – it was obvious he spent a great deal of time worrying. He reached for his sister again and this time Jocelyn didn't resist. When she lifted her head to meet Henry's eyes, her expression was full of angst. Emma's heart went out to both of her children for what they had suffered. _My children, plural_, she thought. She recognized that at some point, in a transition so natural she couldn't even pinpoint exactly when it happened, she'd wholeheartedly accepted Jocelyn as her daughter.

"Swan?" Killian's soft whisper startled Emma. She'd been so focused on the interaction between Henry and Jocelyn she'd failed to notice he was now standing beside her. He looked as confused and concerned as Henry, and Emma realized that Jocelyn hadn't told him her secret. She felt his fingers brush the inside of her wrist and she took his hand, shaking her head. This was Jocelyn's truth to tell and neither she nor Killian should intervene.

"I lied about our mother's disappearance," Jocelyn said finally. Once she started her confession, the rest of the story tumbled out in a rush. "She and I weren't taking a walk together that day, I-I disobeyed her and went outside the castle walls on my own. It was such a warm day, and I wanted to go swimming in the river. I didn't believe there was any danger, at least not anything I couldn't handle on my own. I was afraid of getting caught, so I used magic to dry off before I headed back. My magic attracted Morgana's attention and s-she tried to kidnap me, but Mom came when she sensed I was in trouble. She couldn't defeat Morgana, but she wouldn't let her hurt me. She went with her willingly, to save me." She paused to draw in a sharp, tearful breath. "It's my fault Mom – and Dad – are gone."

Henry stared at his sister sadly, holding her at arm's length. "You listen to me now Joss," he said seriously. "It is _not_ your fault."

"Yes it is!" Jocelyn insisted. "If I hadn't been so over-confident, so arrogant, so _stupid_, if I had just listened for once in my life, Mom and Dad would be here with us right now! That's why I'm going after them now, whether you like it or not. We can defeat Morgana, I'm sure of it. The prophecy says – "

"Ahem, your Majesty?"

Emma jumped at the untimely interruption, turning to stare at its source. A pair of harried looking castle guards hovered behind Snow's chair. Owing to the drama unfolding between Jocelyn and Henry their arrival had gone unnoticed, and if their fidgeting was any indication they were growing impatient.

"Horace, I told you we were not to be disturbed," Snow said sternly, addressing the man who had spoken. Emma recognized him as one of the guards who had been stationed in the hallway outside the council chamber. Both Horace and his companion bowed apologetically.

"Yes, your Grace," said Horace hastily. "But Frederick insisted – "

"No buts," Snow interrupted. "Please leave us."

"Milady," Horace said, acquiescing without further protest. He bowed again before swiftly disappearing to reassume his post. The other guard, Frederick, lingered, bravely meeting Snow's reproachful gaze.

"Forgive me, my Queen," he said doggedly. "I was patrolling the perimeter when I apprehended a man lurking in the forest. He is demanding an audience – "

"Frederick, if the Queen dropped everything to grant an audience to every random person who requested one, she would have no time for anything else," Henry interjected with a sigh. "You are dismissed." When Frederick made no move to leave, Henry turned away from Jocelyn to address the dark-haired, armored knight seated next to Robin, "Commander, please escort this man out."

"Yes, sir." The knight rose from his seat and moved to take the short, stout guard by the arm. "Come with me, please." Recalling his strong reaction when Jocelyn declared her plans to confront Morgana, Emma studied the young knight's face, struggling to place his identity. Whoever he was, it was clear he cared deeply for Jocelyn, which definitely made him a person of interest to Emma.

"MILORD!" Frederick erupted, startling Emma out of her ruminations. The guard's round face had turned scarlet. "You didn't let me finish! The man requested an audience with _Emma Swan_."

"With Emma?" Snow repeated. "But everyone in the realm knows that Emma has been missing for five years."

"Aye, your Majesty!" Frederick said, nodding vigorously. The color in his cheeks retreated to his neck, signifying his relief at having finally delivered his message. "That's what I told him, but he insisted she was here in the castle." He glanced at Emma and Killian, regarding them uneasily. "I'd heard rumors last night, although I didn't quite believe them. I figured I better bring him in."

Snow followed Frederick's gaze, frowning when her eyes met Emma's. "Where is this man now?" she asked.

"In the dungeon," the guard replied. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but I thought your Highness would wish to question him immediately."

"Thank you, Frederick, you did the right thing," said Snow kindly. "You may return to your post." Frederick bowed a final time before scurrying out of the council chamber.

There was a buzz around the table. Jocelyn claimed the empty seat next to Henry, keeping her eyes downcast. She looked deflated, her revelation overshadowed by this new development. Emma wanted to say something to her, to let her know she'd done the right thing by telling the truth, but Emma had to admit she was both concerned and intrigued by the arrival of a stranger who was somehow aware of her presence here. One look at Killian told Emma he shared her apprehensions.

"Neal," Henry said, turning to his uncle as the door clicked shut behind Frederick. "Is it possible someone could have intercepted the messages you sent last night?"

Neal shook his head. "I had the fairies enchant the parchment with an encryption spell. The messages should've been invisible to everyone except the person to whom they were addressed."

"My message was untouched," Regina said immediately. "It was the first thing I checked when the bird arrived."

"As did I," Rumple chimed in. "There was no evidence of tampering, magical or otherwise."

"It didn't _look_ like anything was amiss with our bird or the note she was carrying," said David dubiously. "But seeing as we don't have magic and had no way to check, I guess that makes us the weakest link."

Henry and Regina exchanged glances. "Has their bird returned to the castle?" asked Regina. "It should be examined."

"Yes," said Neal. "The bird returned this morning. She's in the rookery with the others – I can take you to her." Regina and Robin stood up, preparing to follow Neal.

"I'd like to examine the bird as well," said Rumple.

"Doubt my skills, Dark One?" Regina asked haughtily even as she offered the old man her arm. "By all means, come along." As they passed near Emma, she heard Regina hiss in a low voice, "Can we talk about that wand? You know, the all-powerful wand you never mentioned you had, not even once, not even that time when _the world was about to end_?"

Rumple chuckled and patted Regina's arm. "We survived, didn't we, dearie?" he cackled as they left the room.

"Someone should head down to the dungeons to question the man Frederick brought in," the young knight suggested. "He could be working with Morgana."

"Roland is right," Henry agreed.

_Roland?_ Emma thought, incredulous. _Little Roland, son of Robin Hood?_ She couldn't help but stare as she attempted to reconcile her mental image of the elvish youngster she knew with the reality of the handsome, strapping young man sitting across the table. She sensed Killian having a similar struggle, and based on the way he was glaring between Roland and Jocelyn, it was clear he had also noticed Roland's previous outburst.

"What about Jocelyn's prophecy?" Emma reminded Henry. "She was about to tell us – "

"It can wait," Jocelyn cut in. "Questioning the prisoner is more important. Even if he's not working with Morgana, we need to find out why he is here and how he knows about Mom."

The flatness of Jocelyn's tone spoke volumes more than her words. Her disappointment at not being able to share everything she'd intended to say was palpable, but she was making an admirable attempt at maintaining royal decorum. Emma found herself cursing Frederick for his interruption, however necessary it may have been. She was starting to get the impression the elder members of the family rarely took Jocelyn seriously, still treating her like a child despite the fact that anyone looking closely could see she'd passed into adulthood long ago.

Jocelyn's distress was not lost on Henry. He put a comforting arm around his sister and gave her a brotherly squeeze. "We'll talk later, Joss," he promised.

With David and Snow leading the way and Emma and Killian bringing up the rear, the group headed for the dungeons. Ahead of her, Emma watched Roland try to fall in step with Jocelyn. The girl rebuffed him, slowing her gait until she was walking beside Killian, who raised a questioning eyebrow at Emma. She shrugged, again wondering about the nature of the relationship between her daughter and the handsome knight.

"Are you all right, love?" Killian asked Jocelyn softly. When she nodded, he continued, "It was brave of you to tell the truth back there."

Jocelyn made a face. "You aren't angry with me for not telling you before?"

"Of course not," Killian assured her. "And your brother is right – none of what happened was your fault." He paused, glancing at Emma. "Jocelyn, you don't owe anything to anyone, least of all your mother and I, so if that's why you want to confront Morgana – "

"I know that now," Jocelyn said simply. "It's myself I owe something to. I need to try to make things right." Killian started to protest, but she cut him off. "It's what you taught me." She leaned forward, looking past Killian to catch Emma's eye. "Both of you."

There wasn't much either of them could say to that, so Emma seized the opportunity to change the subject. "About the prophecy," she said. "I know you wanted to tell everyone together, but could you tell Killian and I now? We'd be in a better position to back you up later if we knew everything ahead of time. I noticed that your brother can be a bit…patronizing."

"He is certainly that," Jocelyn said, grimacing at what was obviously a sore spot for her. "The fact that I am twenty years old and not ten seems to have escaped his attention. Grandma and Grandpa aren't much better."

"Your brother only wishes to protect you," Killian said. "He cares for you very deeply. It can be difficult for an older sibling to accept when a younger one has grown up." Jocelyn smiled, and Emma thought she was probably more pleased by Killian's acknowledgement of her maturity than his defense of Henry.

"You told me about Uncle Liam many times," Jocelyn said, still smiling. "I know you understand."

"Aye," Killian agreed, grinning down at her. "His insistence upon referring to me as his 'Little Brother' long after I had become a man irked me to no end." He sobered at the memory, the sudden distance in his eyes making him seem very far away, and in that moment Emma supposed he was. A few centuries away, that is, back with his beloved brother.

"I wish I could've known him," Jocelyn said wistfully.

"Me too," said Killian sadly, returning to the present. He put his arms around Jocelyn and Emma, drawing them in close as they walked slowly down the hall. "He would've loved you both."

They didn't speak for a few steps, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Not for the first time, Emma pondered the strange circumstances that had brought her and Killian together. Could mere coincidence truly account for all the twists and turns in their respective roads that eventually led them to one another? Emma wasn't the kind of woman who put stock in ridiculous romantic notions like destiny or fate…but then again, she'd never believed in fairy tales or True Love either.

"Jocelyn," Emma said, breaking the brief silence. "The prophecy?"

The girl shook her head and ducked out from underneath Killian's arm. "Later," she said, gesturing some ways ahead to where the rest of their party stood waiting. "We're already at the dungeons."

Emma took in their surroundings. It was much darker in this lower level of the castle compared to the brightly lit upper floors, but even in the dim light she easily recognized the place. It felt like half a lifetime had passed since she'd been locked up down here by Regina – in all her glory as the Evil Queen – but in reality it had been only a few days. Emma shivered, remembering the dankness of the dungeons and the cold edge of her own fear. Killian's arm tightened around her, his warmth instantly banishing her chill as he whispered, "Steady, love."

Snow was conversing with the guard on duty – a lanky, pimply-faced youth who could probably count fewer years than Jocelyn – when Emma, Killian, and Jocelyn rejoined the group. "They're holding him down there," she said, pointing to one of the many doors lining the narrow passageway. "He's unarmed, but that doesn't mean he's not dangerous." Her gaze fell upon her daughter and her little family. "Maybe the three of you should wait out here," she suggested.

"Not a chance, your Majesty," Killian said, flashing his best rakish grin.

"You'll want Jocelyn and I in there if he has magic," Emma declared. "I brought this along, just in case." She brandished the Black Fairy's wand, which she had discreetly pocketed in the ensuing confusion after Jocelyn announced her intention to face Morgana.

"Very well," Snow said reluctantly. The young guard led them to the prisoner's cell. He fumbled with a large metal key ring, thumbing through what looked to Emma like at least fifty identical keys before finally fitting the correct one to the keyhole.

"I'll be right outside if you need me, your Grace," the young guard said solemnly, grasping the hilt of his sword pointedly.

"I feel safer already," Killian whispered to Emma mockingly, earning himself a sharp elbow to the ribs.

One by one, the seven of them filed into the small holding cell. The only light in the room radiated weakly from a single torch stuck in a holder on the wall by the door. A tall figure stood in the darkest corner, his back to the newcomers.

"Who are you and what business have you here?" demanded Roland, striding boldly towards the prisoner. His voice rang with the sort of unwavering authority that only true leaders could affect – Emma guessed there were few people who refused to answer when he asked a direct question. The prisoner turned around slowly. The long, hooded cloak he wore hid his face and hands, revealing nothing of his age or appearance.

"I mean you no harm." The voice seemed to emanate from within the depths of the hood. His speech was slightly accented, although the cadence and lilt of it were not unfamiliar to Emma. To her ears, he sounded like any number of people she'd encountered in Storybrooke, suggesting he was a native of this realm. Emma noted that, despite the compromising nature of his present circumstances, the prisoner sounded utterly self-assured. She also detected an undercurrent of magical power in the room. Strangely, this did not put her ill-at-ease; she sensed that the man's words truly matched his intentions.

"Remove your hood, sir, and step into the light," Snow requested. Although her tone was gentler than Roland's, it held no less authority. The man obliged, lifting his shackled hands awkwardly to push back his hood as he took several steps forward.

"You!" Jocelyn exclaimed, the force of her outburst startling everyone. She shouldered her way past Emma, ignoring Henry's attempt to hold her back, and marched right up to the prisoner. Her expression of disbelief morphed into wariness as she stared up into his face. The man stared back at her calmly, his own expression unchanging. "How is this possible?" she murmured, almost to herself.

"Joss, you know this man?" asked Henry.

"Aye," she replied, her narrowed eyes still trained on the prisoner. "Well, I don't _know_ him, really – but I've seen him before, when I was a little girl in Storybrooke." Jocelyn turned to her brother. "Henry, he looks exactly the same as he did fifteen years ago."

At the mention of Storybrooke, Emma looked at the man more closely, but she didn't recognize him. _Could he be another time traveler?_ she wondered. "I think you better tell us who you are right now," she said aloud.

"I've answered to many names over the years, Emma Swan," the prisoner said enigmatically. "Centuries ago, I was called Emrys."

Jocelyn gasped, clearly recognizing the name although it meant nothing to Emma. The prisoner winked at her before regarding the rest of them in turn. "More recently, I've simply been known as The Sorcerer," he continued. "But I think the name the lot of you would be most apt to recognize is Merlin."

"Merlin?!" Emma sputtered. She noticed that everyone save Jocelyn was regarding the prisoner with similar levels of skepticism. At first glance he simply seemed too young to be the Merlin of legend, but Emma had long since learned that, in this realm at least, one could not necessarily judge a person's age based on outward appearance. He was also quite handsome, with a complexion the color of creamed coffee, long-lashed dark eyes, and full lips just now quirked in an ironic half-smile.

"Not all wizards have long white beards, you know," said Merlin amicably, clearly accustomed to and unperturbed by this sort of reaction. To prove his point, he magically removed the iron cuffs holding his wrists together, dissolving them with a bang and a large cloud of white smoke. He stretched his arms out in front of him and rubbed at his wrists. "Ah, that's much better."

"Little more than a parlor trick, mate," Killian scoffed. "If you're Merlin, then I'm – "

Another bang and suddenly Merlin was wielding the Black Fairy's wand, waving it in Killian's face with a flourish. Emma squawked, staring at her empty hand.

"You were saying, Captain?" Merlin said merrily.


End file.
